


a very good (bad) thing

by callmearcturus



Category: Borderlands
Genre: And an obnoxious amount of plot, Collars, Corporate Espionage, Dom/sub, Honeytrap AU, M/M, Sex Work (in a sense)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4010896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmearcturus/pseuds/callmearcturus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Rhys grew up on Pandora and is a con artist/honeytrap that works with Fiona and Sasha. When the chance to get some payback against Hyperion arises, they shuttle Rhys off to lie and charm his way into the Helios space station. He soon finds life on Helios is just as dangerous as life on Pandora.</p><p>It has the potential to be the biggest score of their lives if they can keep Rhys alive. But things go awry when Rhys accidentally catches Handsome Jack's attention.</p><p>What was supposed to be some profitable minor grifting quickly gets out of control, involving the Pandoran resistance forces and the sort of secrets that are too big to sell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This was the thing about Hyperion that Rhys hadn’t expected:

It was more dangerous than Pandora.

He sometimes wished he could explain this to the people working on the Helios space station. Rhys had grown up on Pandora and lived in an underground city filled with cutthroats and grifters and bounty hunters and murderers. He was used to people being pretty terrible on a regular basis, as well as the constant effort it took to stay ahead of the game, to stay alive.

There was also the planet itself: the stirring wildlife, the brutal climate, the various natural phenomena that could end your life as quickly as a raider could.

Despite all that, Helios was worse.

But Rhys couldn’t tell anyone that. For one, that would require him to admit that he wasn’t actually from Eden-5 like his employee documentation claimed. For two, Rhys wasn’t sure if anyone who lived in the space station that sat silently between Elpis and Pandora in its cozy Lagrangian orbit, that any of them would _understand_.

He sometimes thought about telling Vaughn. He wasn’t sure how that would go. Vaughn had been the first surprise of Rhys’ time aboard Helios: an ally. Which had to be taken with a grain of salt, given how they'd met. When Vaughn learned that Rhys was a con man who'd stolen aboard Helios, his response had been, "You're here to rob Hyperion? Do you... work on commissions? 'Cause I can think of a few jobs you could do for me."

So Vaughn was his friend, and was maybe better adjusted than most Hyperion people, but Rhys still doubted he'd  _get it_. Helios had that effect on people.

It was a weird place. Rhys was a bit more confident he wasn't going to be murdered here than he'd be in Hollow Point, but it was a slim margin. However, his safety from having his life or career ruined? He had a lot less confidence in that.

That was the difference between Hollow Point and Helios, really. Hollow Point, people living there didn’t really pay attention to anything beyond getting through the day, getting to their next meal, keeping themselves alive. As long as you didn’t get in anyone’s way and didn’t look like an easy mark, you were mostly safe. Around Helios, though, it was a different story. The only things that mattered were information and money, and everyone was vying for the same pool. It was like sharks.

Or so Rhys assumed, he’d never seen a shark before. He’d heard about them, though, and that was what Hyperion was like.

Except Vaughn.

Or, Vaughn too, but not as much. Most days, Rhys was pretty sure Vaughn wasn’t going to stab him in the back.

“So here’s a tip for you,” Vaughn said as he sat down next to Rhys on the D level observation deck overlooking Pandora. It was the end of the work day, and Vaughn looked the part, a tired slope to his shoulders and his shirt sleeves already rolled up to his elbows. He leaned back on the bench, pointing his toes, voice going tight as he stretched. “Hyperion’s apparently acquiring one of its rivals in the next two months. Deal’s in final talks right now.”

Rhys nodded slowly. “That’s indeed a tip, man. You know who I need to ask about it?”

“ _Ask_.” Vaughn huffed out a small laugh, then held up his hands when Rhys gave him a weak glare. “Uh, no. It’s _really_ hush-hush right now. No one in finances knows who’s heading the negotiation, so it’s probably not even on D.”

“Great,” Rhys sighed. “Well, that’s more than I had this morning.”

“Hey, what are friends for,” Vaughn said, resting his arms along the back of the bench.

 _Friends_ was a funny word for it. Not wrong, because Rhys could count the people he called _friend_ on one hand and Vaughn was one of them, but _partners in crime_ was probably more accurate. Hyperion would call them _accomplices to fraud_ if they were ever caught. Which honestly sounded worse than it was; it would be bad, no doubt, but compared to some of the other people on Helios, a little fraud was small time.

Rhys heard that Vasquez, up in marketing and propaganda, might’ve actually killed a guy to get his position. Rhys didn’t have a hard time believing that at all. It was weird, he thought, to be in a place where a con man could claim the moral high ground.

“You going to be home for dinner?” Vaughn asked, quieter. “Or are you going to…”

“ _Ask around?_ ” Rhys let his voice drop into something a little softer and deeper. “I might, yeah. If I don’t get something back to Fiona and Sasha soon, they’ll start talking about shuttle times again.”

“God, don’t,” Vaughn said, pained. “I would have to get another roommate and since Yvette won’t move in with me-- do you know how hard it is to find someone to live with who _won’t_ kill you in your sleep? On Helios? Because it’s not easy.”

“I will try my very best not to leave you to Hyperion’s tender mercies, buddy.” Rhys stood and tossed Vaughn a wink. “Don’t wait up.”

Vaughn smiled, his ears turning a little red. “I know, I know. Be careful.”

“Always am.”

 

* * *

 

Rhys hadn’t always been in this line of work. Actually, compared to Fiona and Sasha, he was green as they came. The only reason the three of them had decided Rhys was the one who had to go to Helios was because Fiona had a bounty on her head and Sasha’s criminal record was a little too long to get past Hyperion’s security. Rhys, being the baby (so to speak) of the little crime family, hadn’t been arrested yet and was less likely to get had the moment he stepped onto the Hyperion employee shuttle.

But before.

Before DAHL fell, Rhys had another family. As the only son of a minor mercantile empire that bit the dust around the same time DAHL itself did, Rhys could remember better days. He could recall early settlements, before they were run down and blasted to pieces and torn apart by a mix of raiders and scavs and the occasional moonshot.

It was hard to remember sometimes that Pandora was not always… Pandora.

After his family died, Rhys hadn't enough money to get off planet. And then, when his car had broken down outside Hollow Point, he didn’t have enough money to get it fixed.

Fresh meat in Hollow Point, walking around in a nice jacket and a shiny ECHO eye. He shouldn’t have survived the night, honestly. He wouldn’t have, if Fiona hadn’t found him and inexplicably decided to buy him lunch instead of fleecing him for everything he had.

Five years later, Fiona had squeezed his hand tightly in hers as they stood at the spaceport to see him off. “We love you. Be careful up there. Come back alive.” It was a rare moment of affection for Fiona, a glimpse at the softness she kept hidden under layers of metal and patina and raw-willed determination.

Sasha, who was even worse at the whole _emotions_ thing than her sister, had just punched Rhys’ arm and told him, “Yeah, don’t screw up. It’ll be hard to come bail you out when you’re in space.”

That felt like a lifetime ago, but it still echoed around Rhys’ head as he sauntered down the halls of Helios, peering into the various offices to see who was still working. It was just after work hours for everyone except R&D, who as far as Rhys knew didn’t get sleep or leisure time or fun ever. Anyone else, though, either was on their way to the housing wing or they were working on something worth knowing about. If Rhys found someone, there was a good chance they were on the team nailing down the acquisition.

It’d taken some time for Rhys to learn what was worth learning and what wasn’t. Hyperion moved fast with a lot of dramatic upheavals on a regular basis. It made for one of the most stressful environments Rhys had ever been in. But not all of it was _useful._ People getting thrown out of airlocks and being demoted and, on rare occasion, promoted, was all important if you were living on Helios, but it wasn’t worth reporting back to Fiona and Sasha.

New mining projects, though? Rumors of new supply drop sites? Moonshot targets? His friends back home could turn that information into cash. Anyone who could demystify Hyperion’s actions could make a killing with the right people. Once, Rhys got the location of a planetside bot test two weeks ahead of schedule. It’d given Sasha enough time to put together a plan and get a few scrappers in on it. They’d managed to steal an entire bot. Nothing to Hyperion in the long run, but for a few grifters it was a great haul.

Rhys was loitering around, trying to see what he might overhear, when someone jabbed their nails against his ribs, making him yelp and jump, almost falling over as he whirled around.

Yvette gave him an arch look and a smirk, leaning back on her heels and crossing her arms. “And what are _you_ doing here? Lose your way back to residence?”

Rhys pursed his lips and tugged his jacket back into place, stepping in close to loom over Yvette a little. She didn’t seem impressed, but Rhys didn’t mind. He’d stopped trying to actually impress her months ago. “Ha ha, that only happened twice.”

“If only you’d paid attention during your official employee orientation.” She snapped her fingers. “ _Wait_ , now that I think about it--”

“Oh, come on, stop,” Rhys whined. Yvette and Vaughn joked about it a lot, how Rhys’ employee credentials were all spoofed. He thought it was unfair, considering the two of them had been the ones to set him up, making him look legitimate enough not to be caught out. If he did get tagged by security one day, surely it was going to be _their_ fault for not making him a better cover.

Somehow, that argument never worked.

Yvette reached out and put her hand on Rhys’ shoulder, nudging him back until she didn’t have to strain her neck to look up at him. “You working on a lead or something?”

“Yeah, Vaughn heard a thing. I’m checking it out. Seeing if anyone’s around, if they might want… company.” He smiled, ducking his head a little bit. “What about you? We still going to see you this weekend?”

“Definitely.” She dropped to a whisper, suddenly. “Beverly up on B has been trying to convince me to be his plus one for this party on Sunday, and I need an out. If anyone asks, you and Vaughn have invited me to a 48 hour old movie marathon.”

Rhys laughed before her words really clicked in his head, and he trailed off. “A party, huh. On B?”

Yvette nodded. “Yeah. Don’t know for what, apparently it’s not going to be announced until next week. Why?”

“I think,” Rhys said slowly, “I might know who I need to get close to. Don’t suppose Beverly might want _me_ as his plus one instead?”

She let out a snort, head shaking. “Don’t count on it.”

“Not into…” Rhys looked down at himself.

“No, I think he’s got a soft spot for the leggy brunets. But cyborgs?” She seesawed her hand.

“Oh, ew,” Rhys muttered. Nothing was worse than the people who looked down on him for the metal parts. There was a specific way they wouldn’t meet his eyes, or his _eye_ , the way their lips curled. Even Rhys had his limits to what he’d put up with.

“Mmhm. But I’m sure you’ll find _someone_ who wants to be friends.”

“Here’s hoping. I’m going to head up there now, see if I can bump into someone. Saturday?”

“Saturday,” she agreed, patting Rhys’ arm as she stepped around him. “Don’t stay out too late.”

He turned to watch her go, unable to avoid the smile that was left on her face and not wanting to. He could use it. Being able to put on a genuine face was part of his job, but there was always that worry that his attempt at seeming friendly or more would look false on his face. He never broke his habit of checking his reflection in glass and mirrors to make sure he was pulling it off. He did that here too, grateful that usually the metal walls themselves were polished to such a degree he could see himself in the surface.

But today, he didn’t need to check. Keeping careful hold of the comfortable, warm feeling Yvette left him with, Rhys headed to sector B, ready to put it to use.

 

* * *

 

Fiona had taught him the basics of finding marks and how to read them, how to manipulate them. “What you need to remember,” she had told him early on as they sat in purple neon light outside a bar in Hollow Point, her lips moving against the straw of her drink, “is that you and the mark aren’t enemies. You’re partners. They just don’t know it.”

“But they end up betrayed,” Rhys had murmured.

“Only if they know about it,” Fiona had said. “There’s plenty of people that I’ve conned that I’m still in touch with. If you can, you can hold onto that relationship. Push comes to shove, though...” She had trailed off, and Rhys nodded along.

Fiona had a lot to teach about maintaining cover and reading people, talking to them. Rhys had absorbed everything she told him like a sponge.

But she taught him to be a con. Nothing more than that. And while calling Rhys a con man was technically true and was polite besides, it wasn’t really _accurate_.

The term was _honeytrap_.

He checked for Beverly first of course, but he was out of office. Two doors down, though, Tam still had her light on. Rhys peeked through and watched as she fought with her coffee maker. For whatever reason, it wasn’t working.

It was as good an in as any, and Rhys took a moment to scan the machine, checking its error code against the ECHOnet. It handed him back an answer briskly, floating over his vision before he sent it away again with a flick of his eyes.

Leaning in, Rhys made a joke about Tam running low on midnight oil and offered to help out. The relief on her face was immediate, smoothing out the tired, drawn look she was wearing.

Fixing the machine was easy; it just needed a full power cycle. Rhys prodded at a few of the buttons as well for good measure, just to make it look less easy. It wouldn’t do for her to know the solution was so simple. He didn’t want her to feel embarrassed.

He made two mugs of coffee, tacitly inviting himself to stay for a while. Sitting on the corner of her desk, he was far enough away from her to avoid crowding but close enough that her eyes darted over him, unused to someone in her space, asking about her late hours, listening as she complained about her work.

Rhys smiled, and she smiled back.

Small talk lulled, and Rhys could see that she didn’t want that, not yet. He shifted on his perch, like he was about to leave, and she quickly asked about his arm. He stilled, ducking his head a little, playing bashful for a second before offering his hand to her. She held it, linked her fingers with his, bent the joints and watched avidly at the way the metal moved silently. Her touch lingered, and when she finally let go, her face was red.

 _Hook_ , Rhys thought, finishing his mug and wishing her luck on whatever was keeping her up so late before leaving. As he went, he was careful to stop in the doorway and look back over his shoulder at her, making sure she saw.

She was watching him right back, her hands clenched together on her desk.

 _Line_. Rhys waved before leaving, closing the door manually behind him before taking a deep breath and heading to the elevators.

The party wasn’t until Sunday. There was time for the sinker later.

“Patience,” Fiona had told him a million times. Rhys didn’t have her natural talent, but he was a good listener.

 

* * *

 

Vaughn and Rhys shared an apartment on the residential wing. On Helios, almost all employees lived in those apartments. It was a sign of status to have one of the penthouses throughout the station, reserved for the department heads and important figures of the company.

There was also _the_ Penthouse, but Rhys didn’t even know where that was and had never met anyone who’d been in there. Rumor had it that Handsome Jack had the largest window that overlooked Elpis and the glass was inlaid with crystal so the moon’s reflection cast light over the marble floors.

But that was just a rumor.

Vaughn and Rhys, though, had a two-bedroom with a nice master bath, a small rec room, and a full kitchen. It didn’t have a planetside view, but the stars were nice, even if it’d taken Rhys months to get used to waking up and seeing nothing but black skies.

Saturday, Rhys laid across the sofa with a pillow over his face as he listened to Vaughn putter around.

“You’re going to have to explain this to me again,” Fiona said. Her voice was oddly hollow, an effect of being transmitted from underground on Pandora up to the ECHO communicator set up on the coffee table.

“It’ll be simple, don’t worry about it,” Vaughn said from the kitchen. “This is going to be _very_ easy money once Rhys gets us a name to work with. Acquisitions are very lopsided in the stock market.”

He heard Fiona sigh. “I don’t even own a tie and you have me playing stocks. This’d better work.”

Over her, Sasha’s voice came in. “Relax. Last time we did this, it paid for the caravan’s repairs. Even bulletproof tires!”

“Hub caps still got stolen,” Fiona groused. “Rhys, are you even awake right now?”

“No,” Rhys said dryly, the sound muffled through the pillow.

Rhys felt Vaughn come closer, patting his knee. “Rhys was up late doing… what he does best.”

“They have mechanical bulls up on Helios?” Sasha asked.

“ _Stooop_ ,” Rhys said, swatting his hand in the direction of the communicator. “Yvette had info, I was following up on it. Tam might be willing to play ball with me, I just have to apply some pressure there.” Talking into the pillow was starting to get annoying, inhaling cotton taste as he spoke. He nudged it away, squinting up at the light. “I tried Ignacio too, but…”

“Is he still mad you never got back to him after last time?” Vaughn asked, brow furrowing.

Rhys made a face and turned to look at the ECHO screen. Fiona was sitting in front of the camera on her end and she had a needle and thread in her hand, her jacket on the table. She was working steadily on the hem of one sleeve. “I know, it’s almost easier when the mark ends up hating you after. The clingy ones are the worst to handle,” she said with sympathy.

“Tell me about it,” Sasha muttered, pulling up a chair to sit next to Fiona.

Fiona looked askance at her, and Sasha shook her head.

Rhys’ chest tightened. He didn’t know what had happened, if Sasha had gotten into trouble with a mark recently. If he was still on Pandora, he’d know. The three of them knew everything about each other.

Swallowing his sigh, Rhys laid his head back down. Helios was a glimmering gem with technology laid into every wall, a food court with just about anything Rhys could imagine wanting to eat, and even a few corporate bars that Rhys could go to without worrying about being armed if he wanted a drink. It felt ungrateful to miss home so much, but he did.

“I’ll go seal the deal with Tam tonight, hit the party tomorrow, and have that name by Monday,” Rhys said.

“Good. We’ll let you go. Just wanted to check in.”

Vaughn smiled and waved at the screen. “Nice seeing you guys!”

Sasha laughed. “Same, short stuff. Keep an eye on Rhys for us.”

“Be safe, Rhys,” Fiona said, softly, and then the ECHO clicked off with a fading hum.

The homesickness was getting to him. It came in waves, and the tide would go out again, he knew that.

Vaughn squeezing his knee and not saying anything wasn’t much, but it helped.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was good. They ate early, since Rhys had things to do afterward and a limited timeframe in which to do them. It was a great excuse for him not to help with cleanup, either, as he ducked into his room to change out of his lazy weekend clothes and into something nicer.

The sweater he chose was cut just a little too high on the one arm, showing off his metal arm and some of the skin of his shoulder, a small glimpse of his tattoo. It was just what he needed. He mussed his hair a little, then stepped out, arms wide. “So, nice?”

Vaughn looked at Rhys and gave a tentative thumbs up. It wasn’t really his area of expertise, but Rhys appreciated it.

Yvette gave him a toe to head sweep of her eyes and smiled. “What’s the occasion? Or should I ask _who_?”

Vaughn snorted. “Tam up in B. Rhys is going to get laid tonight. Or try to.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sound. “Okay, for one I don’t _always_ sleep with my marks. And it’s not getting _laid_ , it’s my job.”

Yvette lifted one sharp, perfectly penciled eyebrow. “Do you have fun?”

He smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I, uh. I think it’s important to enjoy your work.”

“It is a very interesting skill set,” she said, sipping the red bubbly drink she had in a tall, narrow glass. “You must work hard.”

There was just enough playfulness in her voice, it sparked against Rhys in kind. He smiled slowly, a little coy as he bowed his head and sauntered over. He put in the extra effort, keeping his shoulders sloped low, his hips moving a little more than necessary with each step. He leaned in, setting his arm on the counter next to Yvette, his thumb brushing against the soft skin inside her arm. “I try,” he said.

Yvette sipped her drink again and rocked the glass against her lower lip. “But are you any good?”

“Want to find out?” Rhys asked, bending just a little closer. He stopped, a few inches from her face, and she watched him steadily for a moment.

Then, she grinned, one of her rare, wide grins that lit up her face, accentuated the apples of her cheeks. “Save it for Tam.”

“Aww.” Rhys pushed away, winking once before going to find his shoes. “Okay, I’m going. See you next week, Yvette. Vaughn, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Vaughn nodded. “And try to be quiet when you come in. I have an early meeting tomorrow. Unlike you, some of us are actually employed by Hyperion and they don’t like it when you’re late.”

“I’ll do my best. Have a nice night, guys. I intend to.” He smirked as he went, unlocking the door, hanging onto the frame long enough to look back, to see them wave to him. “Later,” he said cheerfully, and was gone.

He had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The outline alone for this is about 7K words. Settle in, folks.


	2. Chapter 2

Rhys wasn’t really certain why the areas of Helios were broken up into sectors and not floors. For all intents and purposes, they were. Vaughn’s sector, D, which was finance and logistics, sprawled one complete floor. There wasn’t any overflow and everyone who was part of those departments got off the same floor on the elevator each morning.

And yet, it was _sector D_ , not _floor D_.

Maybe it was a space thing. Maybe it was a Hyperion thing. Maybe _floor_ didn’t sound important enough.

Rhys thought a lot about this kind of semantic bullshit when he was lurking around the green room up on B.

B was much nicer than D. The view of Elpis was better and there was a really nice open bar on the observation deck. One room had one of those infinity swimming pools, which was much nicer than the gym down on D. There was also the green room, which was where you went on Helios if you wanted to see some plantlife that wasn’t heavily pruned into a vague vault key shape or wasn’t stuck in a squat metal pot.

The green room had _trees_ , real ones with gracefully arching low branches that almost obscured the view of the metal ceiling. There were tall, sturdy stalks of grass topped with bright yellow flowers. It all centered around a rock garden with the neat, curving lines drawn in the sand. Even the benches to sit on were made from metal trellises that allowed more greenery to twine through it and grow upward.

Clearly Rhys had made a mistake, conning his way into finances instead of acquisitions.

The party that acquisitions was throwing was pretty much the worst kind of self-congratulatory crap that Hyperion demanded. As someone who wasn’t a part of the team’s success, Rhys found it about as pleasant as dental surgery to sit through. The team itself, though, was having a good time.

Not Tam. Tam was carefully maintaining distance from Rhys. He tried not to be stung; it wasn’t a big deal, honestly, but he’d enjoyed their short time together and having her not want to be seen with him after did hurt.

He understood, though. Rhys had a _small_ reputation. Just a tiny one. And Tam was clearly wanting to move up the ladder when Dougherty was promoted.

Speaking of.

Dougherty was the head of the team behind the super hush-hush buy. And, clearly, he thought that meant he wasn’t going to be heading the team much longer, that a promotion was coming his way, and soon.

It explained why half the people at the party were glad-handing the guy.

Rhys hung back and smirked, drinking a gin and tonic and wondering what exactly made his brand of charm and manipulation more shameful than what Hyperion kiss-asses did. Maybe he missed out of the official ass kissing license from space college or something.

But, Rhys was there for a reason, and that reason was Dougherty. The man’s mouth was running, and all Rhys had to do was catch it to get the information he needed.

Luckily, the guy was already pretty flush with his own success and was looking for recognition. His eyes kept scanning the room, searching out the next person to grace with his attention.

Rhys hung out against the bar that had been set up and made an effort to catch Dougherty’s eyes whenever he looked up, taking special care to let their eyes lock, hold, and then look down at his drink, biting his lower lip absently.

It was so unsubtle, he could almost hear Sasha making gagging noises. If she were around to back him up, she’d roll her eyes every time Rhys did his move, miming a finger down her throat, mocking him viciously with the kind of familiarity that came with long friendships.

Rhys shook his head and knocked back his drink. It was not the time to think about Sasha.

He had to hand it to Dougherty. It took the man having two more drinks before his resolve crumbled enough that he approached Rhys. He was a few inches shorter than Rhys, but broader, and held himself with enough confidence to fit his position well. He also had really good legs, Rhys noted idly. Maybe he used that infinity pool himself.

“You’re Tam’s date, right?” was his opening volley as he leaned on the bar, setting down his empty glass. He glanced at the bartender, but said nothing to get their attention, his body bent towards Rhys instead.

“That was the idea,” Rhys said with a smile, ducking his head and dragging his finger over the rim of his drink. “But that apparently stopped about five minutes in. Now, I’m just here for the drinks.” He grinned, a little cheeky, and sipped his gin. “Hey, congratulations on your deal. I don’t know the details of it, but--”

Dougherty puffed up even more. “All in due time. Maybe a little ahead of schedule, that’s all up to PR and what they decide. It’s definitely…” He stopped, laughing softly. “I’m sorry, I would hate to do this improperly. Dougherty.”

He offered Rhys his hand. He even offered his right hand, which was something people avoided with Rhys at times. Rhys couldn’t help the surprise that crossed his face. Taking Dougherty’s hand, he shook once, then squeezed before letting go. “Rhys. Nice party.”

“Glad you’re enjoying it. Sorry it’s mostly us old acquisitions hawks muttering about confidential information.”

He kept his eyes on Dougherty’s face, waiting for the read. He could lean in, push for just a little info-- Rhys shrugged instead. “Well, it’s turning around now,” he said, then looked back down at his glass.

He heard Dougherty let out a hard breath.

Rhys smiled, to himself, and then to Dougherty. “So. What’re you drinking?”

 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes and Rhys was walking down the hall with his hands in his back pockets, resisting the urge to whistle as the head of Hyperion’s corporate acquisitions followed right on his heels.

He was sometimes _too_ good at this, it was practically a crime. He snickered to himself before leading Dougherty to one of the custodial closets. This late, Rhys knew all the cleaner bots were out doing their job and would be for another hour and a half, so the space was clear.

He encouraged the door to open with a flash of his ECHO eye. The lock on it was mostly just perfunctory anyway, still set to its factory default.

“Are you sure…” Dougherty started to say. He didn't finish and Rhys knew it was a token protest; he was following so close Rhys kept brushing against him as they moved.

The door shut behind him, and the room was dark enough Rhys could only see him by the faintest glow of his eye. Rhys beckoned, grinning slyly. “Yup. Trust me.”

Dougherty didn’t. Not yet, anyway. Rhys was still working on that. He only needed a little trust.

There was some lingering hesitance in Dougherty, even as he stared at Rhys like he wanted to jump him. It didn’t take much to do away the last of the man’s good sense, just Rhys hooking two fingers into the gap between the buttons of his suit, and he folded, crowding into Rhys’ space and staring at his lips.

Rhys leaned back against the wall, letting himself sink down until they were eye level. He opened his mouth, ready to say something _incredibly_ sexy and clever, something just perfect for the situation that would have Dougherty spilling every secret he had.

Before he could, the door opened and Handsome Jack stood in the blue-light. “There you are, Dougherty, been lookin’ for you all over.”

For a half second, Rhys thought his brain was playing tricks on him somehow. He’d never _seen_ the president of Hyperion in person despite having lived on Helios for months. Now, he was standing perfectly framed in the door of the closet Rhys was about to blow a guy in.

There was no way.

But Dougherty jumped back, away from Rhys, so fast his back hit the shelves behind him. The small room filled with the sound of spare fuses and maintenance gear clattering over, and if anything it startled him further. His eyes were wide and a little wild as he met Handsome Jack’s gaze. “S-- sir, yes, good t-to see you, sir.” His smooth words were just _gone_.

Handsome Jack smirked, eyes tracking sideway to Rhys, then back to Dougherty. “Having yourself a little celebration of your own, huh?”

The smile Dougherty plastered on was painful to look at, exceptionally false, like it was pulled too tightly over the contours of his face, liable to tear and break at any second. “Yes, sir, something, ha ha, something like that.”

Crossing his arms, Jack nodded, leaning on the doorframe with his ankles crossed, all his weight on his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, must be a big day for you, just about to finalize a deal that’s going to lose me, my company billions of dollars for nothing.”

As if Jack showing up wasn’t already bad news, Rhys didn’t like the way this was going. Dougherty looked like he’d been struck across the face. Quietly, trying to be subtle, Rhys edged further back into the closet to get some distance. It was bad enough that _Handsome Jack_ of all people had interrupted them (and man, what timing, if he’d shown up just a few minutes later--), but Dougherty was in trouble. Rhys heard enough stories about what that meant to worry.

“N-nothing, sir, the Maliwan deal’s been workshopped b-by my team for three months, we’ve--”

Maliwan. Rhys wished that information still seemed useful.

“Then why the fuck are they retaining all their patents?” Jack asked sharply, taking a step closer to Dougherty. “Why is Hyperion having to pay fucking _licensing_ fees for their technologies on top of the acquisition fee?” He smiled, the slash of his teeth almost gleaming in the bright light washing in from the hallway. “Does _that_ sound like a good deal to you, Mr. Deal Maker?”

“I…” His eyes darted to Rhys, who shook his head back. He wasn’t part of this. Actually, if there was a vent that Rhys could have crawled through to escape, he would have. “Licensing fees, that’s part of the deal, sir, yes, but--”

“So, hang on, wait, did you think…” Jack laughed, hard and sharp like pebbled glass, “that Maliwan’s _name_ was worth that price tag? Because you’re the deals guy, hotshot, I’d _love it_ if you could tell me what the fucking point of this multibillion dollar deal is if Maliwan keeps all their patents and only has a five year non-competition clause.”

“W-w-we add their name t-t-to Hyperion’s before the launch of the new elemental augments--”

“The only reason I give a shit about _any_ name but Hyperion’s is when I’m slowly and thoroughly _removing it from the market_.”

Dougherty stuttered, hard enough no actual words made it past his lips. As he did, Jack lifted his eyebrows and leaned in, looking expectant.

Then, he rolled his eyes dramatically, his whole body moving with the motion. “Okay, this is boring now.” He reached in, and Dougherty let out a despairing noise as Jack’s hand closed on his shoulder. Jack pulled, pivoting on his heel, and threw Dougherty behind him. He landed hard on the floor outside the closet, the fine suit he was wearing sliding against the tile floor and sending him into the opposite wall, his gold Hyperion brand pins clinking loudly against the tiles.

Jack went on. “You’re fired. If you aren’t on the morning shuttle off Helios, I’m sending you out on an EVA. You can clean some windows. No space suit necessary. How’s that sound?”

Dougherty groaned and started to get to his feet before sinking back down, legs quaking.

“Thought so. Thanks for playing, bye.” And before Dougherty could say anything, Jack slammed the door shut.

 _Oh shit_ , Rhys thought, vividly, as he stood motionless in the dark. He didn’t even breathe. He was in a small closet with Handsome Jack. He’d always known he was in danger, that Helios was not the safest place for any human being, let alone a con.

He’d not foreseen finding himself in _this_ much danger though.

“So are you, ah, just gonna sit in the dark forever?” Jack asked, incredulous.

Rhys winced. “Sorry, sir, uh, here.” He scanned the room, found the light and coaxed it on before powering down his eye again to standby.

Handsome Jack stood, arms crossed again, his eyebrows lifted as he traced his eyes over Rhys, taking him in. Rhys grit his teeth, reaching across his chest to wrap his metal fingers around his other arm, letting them dig in a little. He had to keep calm. He could talk his way out of this.

“Are you one of Dougherty’s chucklefucks, then? Are you _celebrating_ your good work too?”

There was a curl of menace there, and given what had just happened, Rhys knew better than to let Jack think he was part of that team. He shook his head hard. “Oh my god, no, I’m-- no, I’m not even in this department.”

Jack looked him over again, appraisingly and with a comforting lack of murder in his eyes. That was a good sign at least. “So why the hell are you here?”

Rhys had about seven answers on the tip of his tongue instantly. Some were even good answers, casual enough he could play the whole thing off. He could also just make a run for the door. Rhys had long legs; he could probably outrun Jack. Maybe.

Another lesson Fiona had taught him, though, was to follow his instincts. Their line of work was more artistry than anything, and sometimes you had to follow a hunch.

He just wished it didn’t feel like he was risking his life on that hunch.

Rhys rolled his shoulders back and shrugged. “I wanted to find out what company was being bought. It’s useful information.”

To his relief, Jack snorted, his smirk taking on a _slightly_ less flinty edge. “And you could have waited for the guy to leave his office and tried to hack his terminal, but instead you…” He waved a hand vaguely at Rhys. “You decided to see if you could get him to spill the details with some tonsil hockey and, what?”

“And what,” Rhys said, shrugging again. It was obvious what his plan was, there was no point trying to cover it up. “My way works, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

The look Jack gave him then twisted his entire face, a dark amused expression taking over, his eyes narrow on Rhys, his tongue between his teeth, red. “You have a lot of bravado for someone who’s playing at corporate subterfuge in a closet.”

Oh, didn’t Rhys know it. He was just hoping the fear wasn’t showing in his eyes as he held Jack’s gaze. It was like staring down a predator. If he blinked too much, he’d be eaten or something. “Well, it’s-- this is Hyperion. You get kind of used to the, uh.” He made a gesture, like stabbing someone. “Lying to the head of the company, though, that seems a lot worse?”

The _delight_ that crossed Jack’s face like a wave was a little reassuring. “Aren’t you a clever kitten. You got a name?”

He almost lied on instinct. Not a good idea. “Rhys.” He was vaguely aware that Jack was stepping closer to him, sliding into Rhys’ space until Rhys’ back was literally to the wall.

Jack put his hand on the wall next to Rhys’ head. “Rhys. So how do things work _your way_ , I’m interested.”

“My way,” Rhys repeated slowly. It took entirely too long to click in his head, what Jack was asking him, and he knew his mask slipped a little, his shock showing through as his eyes widened. He could tell from the way Jack chuckled.

“I would hope you’re good at it.” His other hand came up, boxing Rhys in as he came closer, leaning on his elbows, close enough Rhys could see his eyes didn’t match, one pale green, one an even lighter blue, boring into Rhys’. “Here at Hyperion, we only hire the best.”

Oh, if Jack had any idea. Rhys took a deep, steadying breath. “The best? Like Dougherty?” As soon as he said it, Jack stepped even closer, his brow furrowing, and Rhys leaned back with all his weight against the wall, trying his best to go flat. “No, no, I…” He breathed. In. Out. Slow. “I’m happy to demonstrate, Mr. President.”

Jack exhaled hard. “The exaggerated politeness thing is cute and all, but you should call me Jack, cupcake.”

“Jack,” Rhys said, trying it out, with all the overcare of licking a knife, just waiting for the bleeding to start. It didn’t, and Jack lifted his eyebrows, looked at Rhys’ mouth then back to his eyes.

Before he could say something else that would test his luck, Rhys pushed off the wall, relieved when Jack backed up to match his step. He had more room this way.

He reached out, movement slow in case he was going to be rebuffed, but Jack just watched with a wry look as Rhys touched. It was only his fingers tracing the line of Jack’s belt, but it felt like the most dangerous thing Rhys had done in his life.

Getting on his knees was easy. He’d lost count of the times he’d done it. All he had to do was treat this like any other mark he’d been willing to blow and it would be fine.

A hand ran thickly through his hair, fingers curling into a light grip, urging Rhys’ face back until he was blinking up at Jack’s face. He was smiling. “I’m already seeing the appeal.”

He wasn’t alone. Rhys busied himself getting Jack’s cock out of his pants, trying not to be distracted by both of Jack’s hands running through his hair. He had blunt fingernails that ran against Rhys’ scalp and his fingers clenched, tugging idly in turns. It was the sort of attention Rhys liked. He hummed softly, letting his eyes start to close.

There was a pull, sharp, and Rhys sucked in a breath, looking up again at Jack’s smug face. “Going to sleep there, cupcake?”

Rhys huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, or trying to. Jack’s grip was tighter than he thought, keeping Rhys looking ahead.

Right. Rhys refocused, tugging Jack’s pants out of the way enough to work. He was half-hard and Rhys curled his softer hand around him, bracing with the other on Jack’s hip. His thumb dragged slowly up and down the shaft, stopping just under the head. He shot a glance up through his eyelashes, swaying forward and pressing his lips fully against the head once before lapping slowly at him, just the flat of Rhys’ tongue in broad swipes.

He could feel it as Jack stiffened between his fingers, and squeezed. Jack’s hips rocked. “Oh. Oh _yeah_ , I am definitely seeing the appeal here,” he said, voice settling into something much rougher.

Rhys smiled but said nothing, diligently working. His lips met his hand as he started to take Jack’s cock into his mouth, slow and easy, listening to the deep breaths Jack was taking, loud in the confines of the closet. The only other sound was the wet noise of Rhys’ mouth, deafening in the quiet and obscene enough to make Rhys flush hot all over.

He wouldn’t say he looked forward to this part of his job, but… sometimes it wasn’t a chore. Sometimes it was fun, and Rhys would be even more of a liar if he didn’t admit there was some appeal to being held in place and doing this. There was a lot of power to it, the way would come apart for him and seeing how quickly he could make it happen.

Jack was right. The appeal was there.

Gradually, Rhys worked Jack’s cock almost all the way into his mouth, just two fingers still holding it in place as Rhys bobbed his head, down with his tongue pressed hard to the underside, then pressing his lips together as he pulled up again.

Above him, Jack cursed through his teeth, his hips stuttering. His hands pet through Rhys’ hair, over and over, occasionally his fingers tightening and yanking a little. Rhys hummed and pulled back against the hold, getting into it.

“Fuck, you are _good_ at this,” Jack groaned, his hips moving a little more. Rhys shifted his hands, both of them on Jack’s hips, thumbs digging in a little. The throaty praises were lighting up in Rhys’ head and he made some encouraging noises, wordless but eager. He could feel the attention like a physical weight on him and it ran like hot liquid down his spine, pooling heavy and warm in his gut.

Jack gripped Rhys’ shoulder and pushed. For a second, Rhys thought he wanted him to stop, but Rhys’ shoulder blades hit the wall, Jack’s grip solid on him, and Jack followed. “Just open up for me, kitten, I’m almost there,” he said, low and intent, like it was being pulled out of him with a vise. Rhys curled his hands around Jack’s wrists, holding on as Jack fucked his mouth, smooth pumps of his hips as he groaned.

When he came, he just stopped, hips moving in hard one more time as he held Rhys’ head still. Rhys tensed all over at the intrusion, but swallowed until Jack was done, eyes shut.

Rhys coughed when Jack finally backed away, the back of his throat a little sore. He sunk down onto his ass, his legs unfolding out in front of him, his knees twinging. Head falling back, Rhys blinked dazedly up at Jack.

He was also hard. That was unexpected. And a little annoying.

Jack zipped himself back away, breathing labored. His hand pet through Rhys’ hair again, and Rhys felt his eyes almost shut again.

“You this easy for everyone or am I special, pumpkin?” He cupped Rhys’ chin, dragging his thumb over Rhys’ mouth once. “Don’t answer that, I think we both know the answer.” He laughed, but it wasn’t as harsh as before. “I’ll see you around.”

The door opened. Jack left. The door shut again behind him.

Rhys’ head lolled back against the wall as he caught his breath. Then, he glared down at his dick, which was tenting his pants pretty badly.

“ _Really?_ ” he asked it angrily.

It took a few minutes for it to subside. A few minutes too long, in Rhys’ opinion as he put himself back together and snuck out of the closet, hurrying back to his apartment as fast as he could.

 

* * *

 

Monday, Rhys was able to avoid everyone for a while. He slept in, predictably enough after a night out working, so Vaughn and Yvette didn’t call him when he didn’t show up for lunch. They might’ve if they knew he was awake and laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and slowly working through his freak out.

What he couldn’t dodge, though, was his check in with Fiona. They didn’t have an ECHO call every day, but since setting up a secure connection they definitely did a lot of chats. Often, they didn’t bother talking about Rhys’ work. Fiona trusted him to report anything useful when it came up.

The problem was that Rhys had told her ahead of time he would have information for her today. He couldn’t avoid the call indefinitely.

The whole thing was taken out of his hands when Vaughn got home from work and sat down with a beer and answered one of Fiona’s hails.

Rhys heard it through the bathroom door and sighed. If he was a bigger man, he’d go out and join their talk.

Instead, he lingered in the bathroom, staring at his reflection, fixing his hair, drying his data port and arm socket with a towel. Anything to put it off.

Eventually, he had nothing left to do and shuffled out. He detoured to check on his arm, sitting plugged into the wall and charging up. It was fine, and Rhys left it alone, going to join the call. He leaned on the back of the sofa, waving at the ECHO screen over Vaughn's head.

“Oh thank god,” Vaughn said with feeling. “Fiona’s giving me the recruitment speech again.”

Fiona was grinning, her face rosier than usual. She must’ve been laughing. It was a good look for her. “I’m ready to show you the ropes anytime, Vaughn. And it’ll be nice to have a backup plan in case Rhys finally gets thrown out of an air lock.”

Vaughn sighed, reaching up under his glasses to rub his eyes. He was smiling though. “I uh… I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don’t think I’m qualified to do what Rhys does, Fiona.”

She let out a crude noise, exhaling hard through her lips. “Phbt. We’ll buy you some kneepads, hun, you’ll be _fine_.”

Rhys put his hand on his chest dramatically, giving her an affronted look. “Wow, Fiona. _Wow._ ”

She beamed at him, as bright as sunlight, before her smile faded and her gaze grew expectant. Her hands clasped on the table in front of her. Her nails were freshly painted, Rhys noticed, a pink that oddly clashed with her red ensemble. “So. The acquisition deal… thing.”

“Corporate buyout,” Vaughn supplied. “Easy money, _if_ we have the name.”

“And do we?” Fiona asked. “Have the name?”

Rhys moved to run a hand through his hair, only to remember he wasn’t actually wearing that arm, his shoulder moving uselessly. He reached over with his other hand, squeezing his shoulder where it turned to metal fittings, nervously prodding at the mechanisms. “So. About that.”

Vaughn sighed, disappointed.

Fiona, though, narrowed her eyes and sat up straight. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Fiona, seriously. Don’t worry, I’m really okay.” When she looked ready to start grilling him, he held up his hand. “Okay. So I got into the party, it was fine. I even got my mark and he was interested. But then…” How was he supposed to put this delicately enough? “The deal got cancelled by a higher-up.”

Vaughn let out a tsk noise, shaking his head. “That’s just our luck. We could have made a killing off that.”

“Who was the higher-up?” Fiona asked. Her lips were pressing together into an unhappy line.

“Oh, uh, it was…” Rhys wracked his brain for a nice little white lie. It was hard; every time he thought about it, he remembered the line of Jack’s jaw in the dim light, the half-mad ravenous look he’d given Rhys when he was on his knees. It was distracting.

Fiona’s face was shuttering, eyes hard. “Rhys.”

“Handsome Jack. Okay? Handsome Jack knocked on the door and fired my mark because the deal was apparently unacceptable.”

Vaughn let out a strangled sound, standing so quickly he almost teetered over and turned to face Rhys. “H-- _Handsome Jack_ , you met him? He-- he _caught you_?”

“It’s fine. It’s _fine,_ guys. Guys, please,” Rhys said, giving both of them his best trusting puppy look, all eyebrows and wide eyes. It didn’t seem to be working.

“Vaughn,” Fiona said, voice dull. “Look into shuttle times. Find out how soon can we get Rhys back to Pandora.”

“Okay, no, _listen_ ,” Rhys said, sharper. He knew that Fiona was his handler, that she was supposed to do this, but indignant anger lanced through him. “We are _not_ going to panic, listen to me, I was the one there, I actually got the read on him, you _didn’t_.”

“Rhys! He _kills people_! And you’re _stealing company secrets_!” Fiona hissed at him, voice pitched low, as though someone would overhear. Someone who really would throw him out an airlock.

“Yeah, I know, and oddly enough _he knows_ and thought it was _funny_ , so relax!”

Vaughn always had the complexion of someone who was stuck on a space station and worked in finances, but somehow he paled even further. “You… told him?"

Rhys shrugged. “I took a hunch. It worked. He’s not going to kill me, all right?” He swung around the sofa, finally sitting in front of the ECHO communicator, leaning in to look at Fiona. “Trust me, Fiona. If I thought I was in danger, I’d be the one booking my flight back home. Jack, Jack’s not even going to _remember_ me tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

She wasn’t trying to be hard on him. He knew that. As he spoke, her whole expression softened like chocolate in the sun, and she clasped her hands under her chin, shoulders tucked in. “Rhys,” she said. So much worry was poured into his name, it hurt to hear. He didn’t want to do this to her, it was the last thing he wanted. “I told you to come back to us alive.”

“And I will,” he promised. “I know you’re worried. I am too, but I really don’t think he’s going to remember meeting me. The guy’s got… you know, innocent settlements to blow up and space yachts to buy.” He smiled. “I’m gonna come back, Fiona. Just not yet, okay?”

He could see her thinking it over, just as ready to yank his ass back home as to believe him. He didn’t blame her; it was her job. In the end, he’d follow her orders for this.

But god, he didn’t want to.

He could see it in her face when she decided, the way she nodded once to herself before meeting his eyes again. “Be careful.”

He grinned. “Thank you.”

“No, be _careful_ , all right? _Really_ careful, Rhys. Maybe lay low a week or two.”

“ _Thank you._ ”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved a hand at him, already packing up her concern and putting it away, clear from her face. “If you dodge my calls again, I’ll hire Vaughn to kick your ass.”

Vaughn, who’d been listening silently while they argued, nodded. “I will cut you a _very_ reasonable deal, Fiona.”

She smirked. “I had a feeling you would. Have a nice day, boys. Try not to trip into anymore sadistic corporate jackasses.”

“You realize this is Hyperion, right?” Vaughn asked wryly.

Fiona waved, and cut the call.

Rhys, suddenly exhausted, sagged back against the sofa and shut his eyes. He didn’t know what was more stressful, escaping Handsome Jack or handling Fiona.

Either way, he was glad it was over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feedback for this story has been stunning, thank y'all so much, I hope everyone enjoys.


	3. Chapter 3

Rhys had the good sense not to test Fiona’s patience. He knew that to some degree she was right, even as he’d talked her down. He was well aware of the fact he’d gotten lucky, that not everyone survived their encounters with Handsome Jack.

When she’d asked him to lay low for a week, Rhys listened. It meant he was basically confining himself to the apartment for most of the day, only leaving at odd hours when there was less of a chance to run into trouble. The isolation had him climbing the walls, but he stuck it out for the whole week, partly because he knew it was the right thing to do but also because he was _positive_ that Vaughn would rat him out to Fiona if he didn’t.

It seemed to him really unfair that Vaughn was so solidly on Fiona’s side. That said, it was also nice to have friends who cared, even if they were a little overzealous about it.

When he was no longer confined to the safety of the apartment, Rhys almost immediately went to bother Yvette.

It was still in the midst of the Hyperion work day. Yvette was still at her desk, and Rhys helped himself to the floor next to her, shielded from view by the desk and her chair. Sitting on the floor, his legs were stretched out in front of him, his back against the desk drawers. The handles dug into his back a bit, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable otherwise. For the most part, he was quiet, and she seemed to forget he was there a few times. Each time she laid eyes on him again, she rolled her eyes once more.

It was fine, he knew. If she wanted to kick him out, she would have. And he thought she liked the distraction between support calls.

During one of her little breaks, he mentioned getting back to work and she tutted at him.“You barely survived your last job and you want another go already?” Yvette asked as she sipped her soda, looking down at Rhys.

Rhys shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, it’s what I’m here to do. I can’t just hide away forever. Besides, it’s been a week. If Handsome Jack didn’t forget all about me ten minutes after he left, then he’s _definitely_ forgotten by now.”

As she thought about it, she crossed her legs, forcing Rhys to lean back, away from the pointy toe of her shoe. She smirked and nudged him in the chest with it. He whined and pushed it away. She sipped her drink again, casual, and said, “You have a point. And it’d be a shame to keep you stashed away, given all the work we did to get you here.”

He caught her ankle and tugged until she uncrossed her legs, leaving him alone. “I know, I know, I’m an investment. I’m being careful, okay?”

They joked about it, but he knew she was concerned. She just showed it in strange ways, though admittedly no stranger than Sasha’s modes of affection. Actually, that might have been part of why Rhys liked Yvette so much. She made him feel a little less homesick.

But under all the wry humor, she was sweet to him. And more than that, she was the one Vaughn had pulled in to help set up Rhys’ false identity on Helios. She was the only other person who knew who Rhys was.

Sometimes, Rhys let himself get down about it, how he only had two friends on Helios. At least they were pretty great friends.

Yvette poked him with one carefully manicured nail, right next to his data port where his skin was always a bit sore. “You’d better be. And besides, if you got spaced, you _know_ Vaughn would come to me to be his roommate.” She  shuddered all over, grimacing. “A woman needs her space, you know?”

“Sure,” Rhys said, not following. He’d spent so long living in Fiona and Sasha’s pockets, the close quarters were sort of nice. He always knew someone was there, who had his back as he slept, someone to share with who would help him in return. But he also knew Yvette probably hadn’t lived like that, hadn’t been worn down by months of sleeping in the back of a caravan or squeezed into a small apartment or, one time, piled together to stay warm in the ice plains.

He didn’t know which of them were better off for that.

Leaning his head back, he stared up at Yvette, giving her one of his best vulnerable looks. He was fine playing to people’s sympathies when he needed to. “So, have you, uh. Heard anything?”

Yvette laughed, shaking her head. “Stop that.  And no, nothing you’d be interested in.”

“What? That means you _have_ heard something though,” Rhys said, voice softening into a whisper, dialing up his pleading eyes a bit more. “Come _ooon_ , Yvette, please.”

“No, I mean you _won’t be interested_.” She grinned. “The only thing I’ve heard is that Vasquez might be on--”

Rhys groaned and sagged back against the desk, pulling a face as he tried not to think about Vasquez. “Nevermind.”

“See? I told you.” She patted his head idly. “I’m just going to say that since his promotion, the guy’s on a lot of new projects and from what I hear he’s not gotten any in a _while_.” Leaning over in her chair, she whispered to Rhys, “Apparently if he _ever_ gets any tail, he doesn’t shut up about it for about three days. Part of why no one will sleep with him.”

Rhys matched her, leaning up to whisper back. “Yeah, and from what I hear the guy’s awful in bed. Like, a 2 at most. Lysa used to be his PA and told me. Also, if he runs his mouth even _half_ as much as people say…”

“Okay, okay. Permanent no on Vasquez. I guess I can’t blame you. What’s your plan then?”

It took a moment to fold his legs back under him, and it was pretty graceless besides, but Rhys climbed to his feet, bracing on the desk. He stretched his arms above his head until his back popped audibly, humming happily as Yvette winced at the noise.

“I figure,” he said slowly, arms dropping, “I’m going to set up in one of the lounges and see what I can pick up.” He tapped his temple, next to his ECHO eye. “Nothing fancy, I know, but I usually catch wind of something.”

“Well, good luck.” She smirked. “Not that you apparently need it, considering what you survived.”

“Can everyone stop talking about it like I had a near-death experience?” Rhys asked. Yvette gave him a look, her lips twitching. “Don’t answer that. I’ll see you later.”

 

* * *

 

Eavesdropping wasn’t the most exciting way to spend an afternoon, but Rhys knew it was a necessity at times. When he couldn’t fish around for a lead, he needed to slow down, do things the more old-fashioned way.

There were some places where it was better to just keep tabs on everyone, to play every single person in the room and wait for an opportunity. Helios was just too _big_ and… transient. People didn’t stick around long enough to be worth the time investment, as callous as that sounded even in the privacy of Rhys’ head. The cogs of the giant Hyperion machine were constantly being changed or swapped around. People were either moving up or they moved on, unable to hack it at Hyperion.

So, Rhys had to pick his battles, had to pick his _marks_ carefully instead of casting a large net.

He did get something out of his sad encounter with Acquisitions. The ability to not look out of place was a powerful thing, and he’d been seen loitering around sector B enough people seemed to stop noticing him. Fewer stray, curious glances in the hallway meant he was safe to traipse around B at his leisure.

Grabbing himself a coffee, Rhys settling into one of the seats by the windows. This way faced Pandora and was perfect for him. As he played the distracted stargazer, his ECHO eye glowed merrily and took in the surroundings. It picked up on the ECHO devices carried past the lounge, information tucked away into the data buffer for Rhys to recall later. As it worked in the background, Rhys listened.

There were times when Helios wasn’t so bad. There were even a few times, though very sporadic, where it almost felt like a second home.

Most of the time, though, it made Rhys feel like an alien.

It was less the metal walls and the strange dormitory culture and the vicious ladder-climbing. No, what really got Rhys was hearing people talk about Pandora. It was _wild_. So far, he’d noticed there were essentially three types of people when it came to the issue.

The first group just didn’t care. A lot of the desk jockeys and lower management people just didn’t think about Pandora at all. They were unaffected by the whole thing, how Hyperion used the planet and the people it hurt on a daily basis. There was a weird dissonance there, like they didn’t understand how Pandora related to their work at Hyperion. And to some extent, Rhys respected that. He didn’t _like_ those people, but their actions were more thoughtless than actually cruel. He didn’t hate them like the rest.

The second group was… useless. When they mentioned Pandorans, they were sympathetic. They talked about how unfortunate Pandorans were, how all the deaths and the lost settlements were a shame, how Hyperion was going a bit too far. _A bit_. It was all hollow since none of them ever spoke up about it or tried to help at all, either from apathy or out of fear of losing their position in the company. They annoyed the hell out of Rhys.

The third group…

There were people at Hyperion bought the company line. They repeated the same bullshit about how Pandorans were criminals and the planet would be better off without them around.

Rhys hadn’t figured out how to deal with those people yet. All he knew was that it happened way too often, the times he overhear someone repeating the tired old anti-Pandoran creeds _outside_ meetings and in casual conversation, as though the propaganda was true.

It made him feel sick, honestly. Or, on the bad days, it made him want to get up and punch someone in the mouth, _anything_ to shut them up.

Like today. Halfway through his second cup of coffee, Rhys overheard two jackasses laughing about one of their mining deals. Apparently it would go _much_ easier if they just sent some Loader Bots to take out the settlement in that area.

Rhys threw in the towel, getting up and draining the rest of his coffee in one long drink. He could come back tomorrow for more eavesdropping. Tomorrow, he hoped he wouldn’t have to listen to some suits joke about decimating a town and all its people with all the care of stepping on an insect.

They didn’t even know the name. That was what bothered Rhys the most. It was just _a settlement_ near one of the prospective eridium mines.

Rhys tossed the empty cup into the trash, keeping his head down as he shucked his hands into his pockets and left the lounge.

The elevators were down the hall, to the right at the crossway. He could hop into one and be back down to D to complain at Vaughn in minutes. It was going to be fine.

Lifting his eyes and scanning the hallway was just a thing Rhys did, ingrained in him. It was important to be aware of who was around you, of any possible dangers. That said, Rhys wasn’t prepared to deal with who was at the other end of the hallway.

Rhys registered eyes on him first, then a shot of panic flooding his system, before he even matched the eyes to the face.

Handsome Jack, at the other end of the hall, walking towards him at a brisk pace.

What were the _odds_?

He knew Jack recognized him, it was writ bold on his face, in the way his eyes locked with Rhys’ and the whites around his irises showed, the way his brow furrowed slightly. His lips parted around a word, or worse yet a _name_ \--

Ducking his head didn’t help much with his height, but Rhys did it anyway, cursing to himself as he turned the corner towards the elevator bank. He was walking as fast as he could without obviously fleeing. That was the thing with predators: running always made you prey.

Thankfully, there was an elevator there already. Rhys cheated, activating it before he even reached the call button with a flash of his ECHO eye. He slid in, turning his body sideways to get through the doors before they finished opening. Once in, he reached out and stabbed the button to the residential wing.

The elevator took its time. It was supposed to, he knew, to give other people a chance to get on. It felt like a lifetime later when the doors finally started to close behind him. Rhys took a breath, trying to calm down and turning around.

He was just in time to watch Handsome Jack pull the same move he had, just barely sliding between the doors as they closed, joining him in the elevator. Rhys backed up, breath catching in his chest as Jack grinned at him. “Hey there. Hit R&D, will ya?”

R&D was on the other side of the space station. It was also a priority location, so the elevator was going to go there first. Rhys didn’t see a way out, though, and managed a nod before pressing the button.

Rhys held his breath for a moment as he felt the elevator switching tracks. It jostled with some mechanical noise coming from overhead before it suddenly sped off to the right. He flung out a hand, barely catching himself on the railing before slipping onto the ground. He’d never taken the trip to the other side of Helios before.

Apparently he’d made that painfully obvious. Jack’s grin widened as he watched Rhys fumble. On the other hand, he didn’t move at all, just shifted his feet a little further apart as the elevator moved, not bothering to hold onto anything. “So,” he said.

Rhys straightened, shuffling back to put his back to the wall and holding on with both hands. He meant to say something, but soon the elevator left the left tower of Helios, the logistics tower, and stared across the center strut. Rhys had no idea what was in the center. Power, maybe. The moonshot mechanism, presumably.

But on the way, he could see through the glass ceiling, the lights and metal girders that flew past in front of a backdrop of stars. It was quite a sight, the way the girders flew past against the way the stars barely shifted at all.

Jack snapped his fingers sharply, and Rhys almost jumped, eyes back on him. Jack nodded, apparently satisfied. “ _So_ , as I was saying. Rhys, right?”

“Yes, sir.” _Cut the exaggerated politeness_ , Rhys remembered vividly as Jack’s eyes narrowed on him. “Jack,” he corrected quickly.

“Well remembered, cupcake. _So_ ,” he said, for a third time, drawing the word out as he leaned back on the window, thumbs hooks into his belt loops. “I’m curious. What is it you _do_ here? Or is blowjob subterfuge something we’re hiring for now?”

Rhys barked a laugh before covering it up with a cough. “N-no, I’m a gopher for finance.” The lie was easy, given to him by Vaughn ages ago. He was fairly certain that, by now, the answer even looked pretty legitimate in his records.

Jack’s eyebrows leapt up. It was actually interesting to see-- the mask on his face was so lifelike that Rhys wouldn’t have noticed it for what it was if not for the shift in skin tone and the clear seam that outlined its presence on Jack’s face. “You’re a-- that’s _it_? What, you couldn’t blow your way into a better position?”

“I’m in a great position for what I do,” he sniped back instantly. As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced. What was _wrong_ with him, being flippant with Handsome Jack? How hard would it be for Jack to throw him out into space from the elevator?

But Jack slid closer, reaching out to tap one finger against Rhys’ data port. “You might have a point there. “Temple-mounted interface, shiny eye, and arm wired up into the whole system, that’s a pretty nice kit there, tiger. You’re not hurting for cash then.”

It took a lot of effort to hold still, Rhys’ hands clenching as his body tensed, but he managed. He turned his head a little, hoping the eye contact would stop Jack from pressing further. “I, uh, it’s an older system but thanks, I’m…” He smiled wanly. “I’m pretty happy with it.”

Jack nodded and lowered his hand, thumb back in his belt loop. That was doing some interesting things to the pull of his pants, and Rhys caught himself glancing down before he could smother the urge. He tore his gaze away and found Jack watching him.

Face hot, Rhys looked away again, watching the view outside while the elevator approached the other tower. It was where most of the hands-on practical work at Hyperion was done-- weapons testing, bot assembly, the spacecraft bay, anything that fell under the R&D umbrella. As such, people from the logistics tower rarely saw the other.

Rhys wondered if he was clever enough to talk his way through it. He was curious enough to just want to _see_ what was going on in that tower, and he could find some useful information for Fiona, he was certain.

Jack was still looking at him. It was starting to freak him out, how-- he was _unreadable_ at the moment. Rhys hated when that happened, he couldn't prepare at all.

He waited, eyes darting between the view outside and Jack’s face.

The elevator entered the R&D tower, and it was suddenly so dark, Rhys lifted his hand, the light in his palm brightening as his vision adjusted. He hadn’t realized just how bright it was outside, in space. It felt like it shouldn’t be, but between Helios’ shiny metal facade, the bright glow of Elpis, and Pandora itself, there was just a lot of light.

He’d have to see it all again on his way back. He actually looked forward to it.

Jack snorted, and Rhys clicked his light back off, a little self-conscious. He could feel the elevator slowing down, though, coming to their destination. He’d apparently survived another encounter with Jack. Hopefully this one would be his last.

The panel chimed, announced they’d reached their destination. Rhys stepped back, away from the doors.

Jack leaned past him and pressed his thumb to a glass square on the panel. A green line of light traced the contours of his finger as he said in a clear voice, “Override, engage door lock.”

The elevator chimed again in acknowledgement, and Jack settled back against the wall, blatantly enjoying Rhys’ attempts to not react. It was annoying more than anything, and Rhys wrapped his arms around himself, meeting Jack’s gaze and trying to ignore the sickly rush of adrenaline flooding his system and how much he _really_ wanted to make a run for it, maybe see if his ECHO eye could override the override, _something_.

“Chillax, pumpkin, I’m not going to kill you.” It should have been a lot more reassuring to hear Jack say so. And yet Rhys held very still, getting that feeling of _predator_ again, like he was trying to survive a swarm of rakks. “No, I’m going to make you the best offer of your short, oversexed but probably miserable life. Your biometrics, they’re on record?”

“Ye… uh.” Rhys thought about it. Had he gotten those added? “Yes, I think so.”

“Good. 2000 hours, you come to the elevator and press this button.” He tapped the panel, next to the top button, the gold embossed H with the pearly filigree. “We’re going to have a chat, kitten, okay?”

 _Kitten_ bounced around Rhys’ head, a persistent echo that made his heart beat a little faster, that dizzy adrenaline feeling still running through his veins. “A chat, okay. 2000 hours. Do I have to… bring something?” Possibly the best combat shield he could locate in the next four hours.

Jack smiled. “Nah. Try to relax, and I’ll see you then.” His attention shifted to the door. “Clear override.”

The doors opened at last, like nothing had happened, and Jack left Rhys there with jaunty wave of farewell over his shoulder as he went.

Rhys stood frozen as the doors shut again. Stunned and confused as he was, Rhys toppled over as the elevator jerked into motion again, yelping as he landed on the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

When 2000 hours rolled closer, it was just after dinner for Rhys and he was cleaning dishes, rinsing them out in the sink and putting them away in the washer. It was his eternal chore in the apartment, ever since he’d started living with Vaughn. Back then, he’d made a game attempt to convince Vaughn that his metal arm was susceptible to water damage and that washing the dishes could potentially short out his cybernetics.

That charade had lasted all of ten minutes before Vaughn had grabbed an ECHO scanner and dug up the information on Rhys’ arm from the network.

Vaughn had taken the fact that Rhys was a filthy liar in stride. It had been a good start to their friendship, Rhys thought, though it also meant that unless Rhys came up with a really good, timely excuse, it was his job to clean up after dinner.

He normally didn’t mind, but tonight, he was surreptitiously checking the time until his meeting, and every moment that ticked by made him more nervous.

Rhys wondered if he should tell Vaughn where he was going, just in case. He probably didn’t have to; if he didn’t come back, Vaughn would probably figure out what happened to him and pass on the message to Fiona and Sasha.

Also, Rhys was worried that Vaughn would try to convince him not to go, if he knew.

What was important was that Jack said he was _not_ going to kill him. Rhys reminded himself of that over and over like a mantra as he finished in the kitchen and retreated to his bedroom. He was running out of time and had to decide what to wear. Handsome Jack himself wasn’t exactly up on Hyperion haute couture, but Rhys didn’t know what that meant for _him_. Just because the president was more casual than business didn’t mean Rhys was allowed to be.

Keeping that in mind, he elected to wear a tie, not the trendy cheat he usually stuck to, but an actual knotted tie. He left his jacket behind, but kept his pinstripe shirt and black pants. Nice, but not dressy. It would have to do.

As he quietly left the apartment, he almost doubled back, rethinking the tie. It felt tight around his neck and he tucked two fingers in to loosen it on his way to the elevator. There wasn’t time for him to change again, and if he went back Vaughn might ask where he was going. He didn’t have a lie lined up this time.

In the elevator, Rhys took a few seconds to breathe before reaching out and pressing his thumb firmly to the top button. There was a delay, just an instance, when the system likely ran his biometric signature through security. Then, the elevator was moving.

Rhys tried not to think about what would happen if someone in security looked too closely at his records. Vaughn had told him over and over that they were as legitimate as they could be without Rhys _actually_ being hired by Hyperion. That was less of a comfort now as he was shuttled off to the bridge between the two Helios towers.

It was only halfway to his destination and with the power of hindsight that Rhys decided he _probably_ should have mentioned this meeting to Vaughn. Or just cut to the chase and grabbed a ride back to Pandora. He’d had a good run on Helios, after all. Quitting while he was ahead seemed like a good idea now that it was no longer an option.

Fiona had told him to come back alive.

Rhys rested his head back against the elevator wall, sighing from deep in his chest.

The elevator changed tracks again halfway across the bridge, dropping down into the heart of the station and into darkness. Or, at least, dim enough light to make Rhys squint through it as his eyes adjusted. That was going to take some getting used to.

As it settled into its destination, the elevator chimed happily at him, way too cheerful given the circumstances. With his back flat to the wall, his heart leapt into his throat as the doors parted and opened to the president’s office.

1955 hours, his ECHO eye told him, a calm blue light over his vision. He blinked it away, dimming the HUD and stepping out into the room.

There was a short entryway that opened up into a truly cavernous room that reminded Rhys of the tall rock ceiling of Hollow Point. It was spoked, angular with great panels of glass, like the room sat inside a cut gem of some kind. The light was cool and oddly faint, and Rhys realized that most of it was natural light shining in from Pandora, reflected back off the planet’s surface and cast across the dark, shiny floors and walls. A prism. It reminded him of some kind of dark prism.

The only additional light was at the far end of the room, in front of the peaked floor-to-ceiling window, where the desk sat, apart from everything else. Really, the rest of the room seemed largely unused, only some adjacent doors against the far walls and two other desks that sat empty.

The only one that mattered, the only one occupied, stood in the center, huge and sleek, built of some rich wood. Handsome Jack sat there, reclining back in his chair, his heels kicked up on the desk as he read through an ECHO device, his brow knit together.

Rhys did not know what to do. Announcing himself to the room felt like ringing a dinner bell, but the only other option was to stand there in the entryway as the tension in him tightened further and further.

The decision was taken away from him when Jack spoke up. “You’re early. Or, eh, not _early_ but punctual, that’s good to know.” It was impressive; he barely lifted his voice and yet it carried across the expanse of the office. He looked up at Rhys and frowned. “What are you doing over there? Come here, sit, I don’t wanna have to squint to see you.”

“Right, si-- Jack.” Rhys caught himself this time, and Jack smiled at him as he walked up the steps to the desk. There was only one chair on the other side, and Rhys dropped into it, trying to breathe. “You wanted a chat.”

“A chat? I said chat? Huh.” Jack swung his feet down and slid his chair closer, elbows on the desk as he leaned in. “Okay, cupcake, this is what I figure. You have a nice skillset, particularly in the mouth area and the looks department.” Rhys let out a surprised laugh, and Jack smirked at him. “Don’t get cocky, but my point is that you are _wasted_ as a errand boy with aspiration of blowing your way to the top. And!” He spread his arms wide, hands open. “I’m here to offer you a shortcut.”

“A… shortcut,” Rhys repeated.

“To the top.” Jack stood, fast enough his chair spun out behind him, coasting easily on its silent, frictionless lifts. Stalking around the desk, he sat on the edge next to Rhys. Leaning back in his chair, Rhys struggled to keep still. “I mean, it’s a win-win scenario, right? You get to stop fucking with middle management L team chumps--”

“L team?” Rhys asked.

Jack nodded his head in the vague direction of the left tower, just visible through one of the windows. “Logistics. Keep up, you want to take notes?”

Rhys crossed his arms, trying not to glare. It was tempting though. “I’m good.”

“Great. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, and we _are_ going talk about that later,” Jack went on, “it’s win-win. We both get what we want.”

“Are you, uh…” He stumbled over the words, unsure how to just _say it_. “You seem to be suggesting…” Jack didn’t help at all, watching with an amused expression as Rhys struggled. Tapping his fingers against the arms of his chair, he took a breath and tried again. “What exactly are we talking about here? Is this a… job offer?”

“You just figure that out, pumpkin? Yes, job offer, you work for me directly, no more clandestine bangs in the broom closets, what do you say? Sweet gig, right?”

Rhys knew exactly what Jack was suggesting. It wasn’t, however, what he’d expected or even something he knew how to handle. So, his voice shook a little as he asked, “Why? Where is this coming from, I…”

“Don’t fish for compliments, kid, I’m not one to pay ‘em.” Hopping off the desk, Jack crooked his fingers at Rhys. When he stood, hesitant to the bones, Jack caught his tie, looped the length of it around the back of his hand. Anchored so, Rhys was pulled in hard enough he yelped, almost falling right into Jack, just managing to brace himself on Jack’s shoulder. “Officially, you’d be some bullshit like assistant secretary to the president, as if my secretary needs a fucking assistant. But _here_?” His teeth were very close as he smiled. “I do like the sound of kitten with you, Rhysie. Thinking _office pet_ has a nice ring to it.”

The idea had never occurred to Rhys before, taking his job and making it more overt. Maybe he should have, though. As soon as Jack put it to words, Rhys felt like something electric was pressed to his spine, prickling and sparking all over his body. It was that strange mix of having to hold still and feeling the rush, the way his heart beat faster at the words.

Office pet.

More importantly: access to Handsome Jack himself.

Rhys licked his lips, trying to gather the words he needed together. He needed something smooth that would bring the conversation back under his control. Nothing came to mind and he still couldn’t think of anything to say. That was apparently fine by Jack. This close, he could watch the way Jack’s grin widened, and there was a terrible keen glint in his eyes. “You ready for your interview, kitten?” he asked as his hand went slack, letting Rhys’ tie slide through his grip. “Strip.”

There was a second where Rhys wanted to play indignant before deciding he didn’t care enough to pretend. Holding Jack’s gaze, he stepped back and undid his tie, sliding it from around his neck. He faltered, unsure what to do with it until Jack nodded to the chair, and Rhys tossed it there.

This was, in a lot of ways, easier for him. The words took too much thought, too much careful planning as he tried to figure out the best inflection and the right things to say to keep himself alive and in control of the conversation. There was a different confidence in not having to risk that, to instead follow direction and know it would work just as well.

His shirt slid off with a shrug, and he took care not to let it catch on his metal arm before setting that aside too. Jack looked at his chest, the dark tattoos there, blue curving across his clavicle and across one shoulder. He nodded in what Rhys thought was approval.

Pants were always harder, and there just weren’t a lot of sexy ways to make easier. Instead, he was quick about it, shoes toed off before bending to pull his socks off and shoving them inside one of the boots before straightening.

Jack leaned back against the desk, watching Rhys’ every move and looking thrilled at it all. His fingers were curled around the edge of the wood, and Rhys couldn’t help but notice his white knuckle grip.

It was nice to have an appreciative audience, he thought as he pushed his pants and boxers down, all in one go because that was _always_ easier and Jack had told him to strip, not to striptease. There was a difference.

As soon as Rhys set the rest of his clothes on the chair, Jack moved, starting a slow circle around Rhys. “Nuh uh,” he said when Rhys tried to turn with him. And when Rhys tried to curl his arms around himself against the chill in the air, Jack grabbed his wrist and pulled it back down. “ _No_ , kitten.”

Rhys let himself smile a little. “Are you going to check my teeth, too?”

That got him a swat, Jack’s open hand against the fleshy span of skin just under his hip. “You really like to push your luck, don’t you? Or did you _want_ to get acquainted with my belt so soon?”

“No, Jack. Sorry,” Rhys said, smiling but dutiful, already catching onto the rules of the game. He put his hands behind his back, one hand clasping the opposite wrist, and was rewarded with an appraising look from Jack.

“You done this before, pumpkin?”

Rhys shrugged and said nothing. The question was too open and he knew better than to offer up something like that for nothing. To his surprise, Jack nodded and didn’t press, instead laying hands on, finally. His palm was warm and more calloused than Rhys anticipated, tracing the point where his skin met metal at his shoulder. “This come off?”

“It can, but it needs unlock tools.”

Jack nodded again, seeming to file that bit of information away. He rounded Rhys again and splayed his hand wide across Rhys’ skin, pushing on his shoulders, firm and directing. Rhys bowed his head a little, feeling a sharp flush cascade up from his chest to his neck. He bent, laying his forearms on the desk, head hanging low as he breathed steadily.

Jack’s hand ran slowly down the line of his spine, pulling a soft hum out of Rhys, an unconscious noise on every exhale. This was good. He could do this.

Reversing, the hand slid up his back, along his neck and into his hair. His fingers clenched tightly in Rhys’ hair, so sharp and sudden he gasped and nearly lost his balance as Jack pulled. The grip urged his head up and back, and Rhys tried to arch back to follow but Jack pressed his leg into the back of Rhys’ knee. He tumbled sideways, landing heavily on the black, polished stone floor, his skin slapping loudly against the surface, the sound making Rhys wince more than the actual impact.

Jack followed him down, crowding Rhys’ legs and pushing against his back until he stopped moving. “Ah ah, down,” Jack said, the grin audible in his voice. “Down, kitten, easy. Unless you want to fight a bit, we can do that too.”

Rhys huffed out a breath, turning his head so his cheek was against the floor. He was just able to see Jack out of the corner of his eye. His face was _alight_ , almost unnerving in its intensity. It was like looking into a sunflare, and Rhys relaxed against the floor, eyes shutting partway. “Whatever you want,” he said quietly, wishing he _didn’t_ mean it as much as he did.

“Oh, I want a lot of things, Rhysie.” His fingers closed around Rhys’ wrist, folding it up and pinning it to his back. Rhys groaned, shifting restlessly, and Jack moved with him as he struggled up onto his knees. He tried to brace on his other hand, but the metal slid against the floor, not enough friction to stay in place.

Jack’s knees bracketed Rhys’, his hips pressed flush against Rhys’ ass, body following Rhys’ and pushing him down. Rhys relented, dropping onto his shoulders. Knelt over him, Jack patted his back, pleased. “I’ve got a _list_ , kitten. You want to get started?”

Rhys shut his eyes, nodding against the floor. Quiet and edged with desperation, he said, “ _Yes_.”

His _interview_ was a lesson in restraint. Rhys turned his face against the floor, gasping as Jack leaned back enough to get ahold of some kind of slick. Something cool and slippery was spread between his legs, making Rhys shift uncomfortably until Jack slapped a hand on his ass, holding him still as he worked.

It certainly wasn’t what he’d expected when he walked in, to be pinned down against Handsome Jack’s office floor, trying to muffle himself with his mouth pressed against the crook of his arm as Jack slid his dick between Rhys’ thighs. On Jack’s low, rough-voiced order, he held his legs together and rocked back again Jack, breath hitching as Jack rutted against his sensitive skin.

It worked for Rhys a lot more than he wanted to admit. There was the closeness, the feeling of being held in place, but being used. The friction felt vivid and great, but it was all secondary to Jack getting himself off, and that sort of worked for Rhys too.

Eventually, though, Rhys wanted more and pulled at Jack’s hand, trying to free his wrist. He whined as Jack laughed and said all silky sweet, “Aw, you okay there, sweetheart? Tell Jack what you want, come on.”

Rhys shook his head against his arm even as his lips parted around the words. “My hand, please, I-- I need it, god.”

Jack somehow pressed down harder on Rhys, working his hips. “Well… you _have_ been such a good pet, I guess so.” His fingers uncurled one by one from Rhys’ wrist. “What do you say, Rhysie?”

Working his hand beneath him, he closed it around his cock, stroking in time with each push of Jack’s dick against him. “Thank you, Jack, yes,” he hissed, eyes screwing shut as he struggled to get off.

Above him, Jack chuckled, the noise breaking apart into intent groans as he worked. “Tighter around me, come on,” he demanded, and Rhys obeyed, mouth open around a silent cry as the tension in him wound just a little tighter.

Jack put a hand between Rhys’ shoulder blades, forcing him flat, and Rhys came like that, shaking all over. It was too much to stay up through it, and he slumped flat on his belly. For a second, he tried to get back up, back on his knees, but they wouldn’t listen to him and he whined through the effort.

“Oh, kitten, you are something _else_ ,” Jack said, voice tight. The sound of his hand on his cock was wet and loud, and Rhys barely flinched as Jack came across his back.

The floor was warming against his skin, tacky from sweat and come. Even then, Rhys rested his head down, eyes shut, dragging deep breaths into his lungs. His knees hurt and his arm twinged from being held up his back for too long, but he felt _good_ , happy enough to lay there for a moment to recover.

Jack patted his ass before getting up. Rhys didn’t bother opening his eyes, just listening as Jack zipped himself up and did something around his desk, drawers opening and closing.

“Bathroom is the right door. If you fall asleep, I’m locking you in and leaving you for the cleaner bots to find. And mine shoot to kill,” Jack said. His voice was different post-orgasm, slower with a different curl to his vowels, like a masked accent was peeking through. He also sounded less violent. That was a nice bonus.

Getting off the floor was a pretty unpleasant sensation. Rhys’ skin stuck in weird places and he nearly tripped over something slick. Refusing to look down, he just stood on wobbly legs and padded down the stairs and to the bathroom to wash up.

The bathroom was almost as large as his and Vaughn’s apartment and was obnoxiously opulent, but all Rhys took note of at the moment was the sink, the soap, and the fluffy towels. He cleaned himself off quickly before he could really look in the mirror, not wanting to see just yet, not ready for that.

Outside, Jack was waiting by the door. He looked… normal, but his clothes tended towards weird layers and an odd disheveled look anyway, which probably helped. He was bouncing on his heels as he looked Rhys over, grinning.

“You did good, cupcake. Stuff’s still on the chair, get dressed, get out so I can finish up here and go home.”

Rhys managed a tired smile and lifted his hand in a loose-limbed salute. “Sure thing,” he murmured, and went to get back into his clothes.

If he was honest, it was probably one of the better job interviews he’d ever done.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Rhys slept in again.

It was getting to be a bad habit, but he needed it. He was exhausted after the scene he played with Jack. It’d been about the last thing he’d expected when he walked into that office. It left his muscles aching in bed, waking him at odd moments as he shifted in his sleep. The morning shower, though, was a revelation. Rhys wound up leaning against the wall of the shower, nearly moaning at the tension release as hot water beat against his back.

It was the kind of shower that left him feeling like a new person, and Rhys luxuriated in it and the fact that Vaughn wasn’t around to tell him off for spending too long in there.

When he finally emerged, he poured himself the tallest glass of juice he could before glancing at the table. The ECHO communicator was blinking insistently at him.

The screen took a moment to flick on, the connection between Helios and Pandora always a little slow. When it came on properly, Rhys found himself looking at no one, just an empty chair and the desk lamp.

He frowned. “Hello?”

There was the tinny sound of distant noise before Sasha leaned into frame. “Oh, you answered! One sec, I have a sandwich going.”

Rhys smirked and leaned back on the sofa. “Why not just call me _after_ you made food?”

“I’m a multitasker!” Sasha called from out of Rhys’ view.

“Are you? I’m seeing evidence to the contrary here, Sash.”

“It’s cute that you think being on Helios will stop me from kicking your ass.”

Rhys shook his head, bemused, and took a deep swig of juice, almost half draining the glass. “Well. You could take a page out of Fiona’s book and hire Vaughn to do it in your stead.”

“Vaughn’s a skinny nerd.”

“Not at _all_ , oh my god.” He laughed, bright and easy. “Have you not seen him without his shirt yet? He’s like a tiny body builder.”

Sasha swung back into frame, landing gracelessly into the chair and setting a plate in front of her. She’d made her cheese and egg sandwich. Rhys felt a pang of homesickness. Through a bite of food, she asked, “Why do you know tha’? I thought Vaughn wasn’t into guys.”

“Vaughn isn’t into _anyone_ ,” Rhys corrected gently. “And, hey, roommates. You see a lot of your roommate anyway.”

“Fair.” She took another bite of her sandwich but had the decency to chew with her mouth shut this time. “So, what’re you doing? Shouldn’t you be out pretending to be an accountant?”

“The best part of being a gopher for finances is that you don’t need to know much about the whole finances thing.”

“Fake gopher."

“Being a fake gopher sadly requires a lot of actual gopher-ing.”

Sasha shook her head. “Uh huh. But anyway, why aren’t you doing that? Late night?” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

That was the question he wanted to dodge most. He still didn’t know what to say about it. He couldn’t just _not_ tell her and Fiona what had happened, but at the same time…

Rhys was aware that he was being incredibly foolish. He understood the danger he was in; he just didn’t _feel_ it.

And god, the possibility of access to Handsome Jack. Rhys had stolen Hyperion employee IDs before, tried to use them to get at high-level plans and documents only to be locked out because Hyperion’s databases were covered in layers upon layers of permission systems and security.

The president, though. He would have access to all of it.

He was quiet too long, and if she wasn’t focused on dabbing bread through the broken yolk of her egg, Sasha would notice and bring it up. As it was, Rhys sighed and said, “I might have a lead. But it’s-- such a big _might_ I don’t want to jinx it yet.”

“Sure. Let us know when you do have something, but be careful.”

Rhys smiled wanly. “I’m always careful, Sash.”

 

* * *

 

When Rhys ended his call with Sasha, it was luckily around lunch time. Or, at least, it was around the time Vaughn tended to go to lunch, which meant that Yvette would go with him in hopes of running up the tab she had with him even more. In the months since Rhys had met her, he’d never once seen her pay for her own lunch. He could only assume she made monthly payments to Vaughn at this point because there was no way Vaughn would let her get away with it forever.

Anyway. Lunch sounded great, and Rhys would be happy to talk to his friends about the-- the _interview_. Explaining it to them would be a great test run for when he told Fiona. It was always better to get a little prep in before taking on Fiona, honestly.

Rhys pulled on a hoodie, an old Hyperion-marked one from before the company reinvented itself, grey and red. It’d been Vaughn’s, but was too big on him. Rhys had cut off one of the sleeves to accommodate his metal arm and it’d fast become his favorite thing to wear, separate enough from the sort of Hyperion _look_ that hung like branded nearly every person on Helios but also _vintage_ in a way that didn’t draw a second glance from people.

It wasn’t his Pandoran threads, but those were long gone, too conspicuous to hold onto. The hoodie was nice, though, and Rhys tucked his hands deep into the front pocket as he left the apartment and strolled to the elevators.

He pressed the button for the Hall of Heroism, one of the huge multiplexes on Helios and the closest one to Vaughn’s department. Hopefully he’d catch his friends there.

As he waited, Rhys settled against the wall, opening the palm computer in his hand and checking his email and company announcements idly.

He was just reading the posting for a new position in Acquisitions and shaking his head, remembering Dougherty with a wince of regret. Then, the elevator lit up brightly.

Rhys looked up in confusion. It was outside. The elevator was taking the bridge path. That didn’t make sense; it was entirely out of the way of where Rhys wanted to go.

Flicking his ECHO eye over the console, Rhys tried to coax an explanation out of the mechanism or at least reverse the path. His attempt to access anything was denied, the security lock suddenly far too privileged for Rhys to even hope to crack through.

As soon as his ID was spit back at him with a denial, Rhys knew what was happening. His fears were confirmed as the elevator slid to a halt halfway across the bridge and dropped down, following the track to the president’s office.

It gave him just enough time to gather himself, enough to square his shoulders and walk out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. He scanned the room and found Handsome Jack in his chair over by the giant arched window. He had one hand pressed to the glass, fingers tapping rhythmically.

Rhys ascended the steps in front of his desk with more confidence than he really felt. Before he could say anything, Jack’s head snapped up, eyes on him.

“Cupcake, did you just roll out of bed? No wonder you’re sleeping your way to the top,” he said with a glare, taking in Rhys’ clothes.

Rhys crossed his arms, standing up straight and hoping some good posture would make up for the fact he was in a goddamn hoodie. Bristling, he countered, “Did _you_ hack an elevator to abduct me?”

“Hack?” Jack snorted and kicked off the window, his chair gliding back over, smooth and soundless. “You have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you, princess. I just told the ID system to find you and bring you to me, it’s not black hat work.” Reaching out, he caught himself with a palm, coasting in to settle at his desk. “Sit, we need to talk hours and rules for your new job.”

Rhys dropped himself into the guest chair. “I have a new job?”

“Yeah, one you better not fucking sleep through.” He pulled an ECHO device out of his desk drawer and tossed it at Rhys, the sound of hard plastic against the wood enough to make Rhys flinch. “Sign that, give it your thumbprint, you know how this works.”

“What is…” Rhys read through the screen. It was filled with legal jargon, hard to parse when he was in Jack’s presence. When Jack had talked before about the job offer, Rhys hadn’t thought it would be… official.

As he tried to read, Jack rolled his eyes so hard, he swayed in his chair. “Look, I’ll sum it up. You start at 0900 hours, you leave when I tell you we’re done, no later than-- it’s 1900 or 1700 hours or something. Officially, you’re the assistant secretary to the president and you’re getting a nice pay bump, additional benefits, other stuff.” He waved his hand through the air.

“Why is this document 78 pages long then?” Rhys asked as he tried to scroll faster.

“I don’t know, legal draws it up. I tell them I want an office pet, they make it look professional and classy on paper. Oh, one more thing. Well, two. You need a word.”

“A word? Oh, _oh_.” Rhys didn’t want to make it obvious that startled him, but it did, all the way to his bones. “Uh, marigold.”

Jack nodded, but was occupied, going through his desk drawers again, clearly looking for something. Rhys waited then asked, carefully, “Did you want one too?”

To his relief, Jack just grinned as he kept looking. “Aren’t you cute, pumpkin. How’s about _knock that off or I’ll break your neck_?”

Rhys huffed a laugh. “I think I can remember that one.”

“I like a good listener. There it is, damn, I knew I had it.” He stood up, a long, narrow box in his hands. The lid was on a hinge and Jack opened it towards him, scanning the contents. “Oh, yeah, this is going to look _nice_.” He rounded the desk. “Sign that yet?”

Rhys frowned but picked up the stylus, jotting his name before pressing his thumb against the screen. As soon as he did, the ECHO device blinked off, taking all the information with it. Rhys wondered if he’d even get a copy of that agreement. It wasn’t _that_ dangerous, honestly. He wasn’t even on Helios legally; what harm could a little _more_ fraud do?

That was, of course, before Jack said, “Hold still,” and laid hands on his neck. Something cool pressed to Rhys’ skin, enough to make him stiffen and lift his hands to see. “ _No_ ,” Jack snapped, voice stern, and Rhys froze in place.

The thing wrapped around his throat, flush to his skin, the two ends coming together in the back. He could feel them mesh together, fusing into one unbroken band. Rhys swallowed, and the whole thing felt uncomfortably present around his neck.

Jack straightened, hooking one finger under Rhys’ chin and tipping his head back. “Oh, that’s _nice_. Consider that your uniform, Rhysie. You show up for work, you strip down. Or, hang on.” He tilted his head, considering it. “You can wear your boxers. It’ll be nice sometimes, to have something to tear off you, yeah.”

As soon as he let go, Rhys traced the thing that’d been put on him. It was a perfect, smooth line, cool to the touch but warming quickly from contact with his skin. It felt almost like cloth, but somewhat synthetic, almost metallic. He wished he could see it, but as soon as his brain caught up with what he was feeling, he knew what it was.

A collar. Jack slapped a collar on him.

Fiona was going to kill him.

There wasn’t a lot of slack to the collar, but there was enough for Jack to hook two fingers in it and pull Rhys to his feet. Rhys let out a hard breath, hands curling around Jack’s wrist as Jack lifted further, pulling Rhys to his toes to follow. “Oh yeah, this is a good look for you. You wanna get started right now, kitten?”

A tiny part of Rhys, one he wanted to hold down and drown until it _shut up_ , really did, making his face flush at the attention. But it wasn’t enough to drown out his common goddamn sense. “I, uh.” He licked his lips. “That’s a little fast, maybe--”

He was swung around, his hips against the desk with Jack pressed to his front. “Cold feet already?” Jack’s hand tucked into Rhys front pocket, using it to pull him even closer. “Well, legal tells me I can’t have you on the clock within a day of you signing the thing anyway…”

The rules didn’t really apply to Handsome Jack and Rhys knew it, felt it as Jack got his leg between Rhys’ and started a slow, dirty grind. His eyes were fixated on Rhys’ face, watching as Rhys gasped quietly and braced himself back on the desk to press back.

For a few moments it was good, prickling down Rhys’ spine as he fought to avert his gaze away from Jack’s dark eyes, their blown pupils, the inexplicable feral thing lurking there.

Then, Jack stepped away, so suddenly that Rhys nearly fell, his knees weak. “Actually, changed my mind. I’ve got shit to do. So.” He caught a fistful of Rhys’ hoodie, pulling him upright and slapping him hard on the ass as he pushed him towards the door. “Monday, 0900 on the dot, or you can just go ahead and airlock yourself, save me the trouble.”

“R-right,” Rhys managed, looking back briefly, uncertain. But Jack was serious, taking his seat again and dragging his keyboard onto his lap, feet propped up on the desk again as he got to work.

On unsteady legs, Rhys made his way to the elevator, pulling the zip of his hoodie all the way up and wondering what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.

The only thing for certain was Fiona was _not_ going to be happy.


	5. Chapter 5

Rhys returned home around the time Vaughn was getting out of work. Usually, when Rhys was sneaking around, it was a courtesy to his roommate to avoid waking him in the middle of the night or interrupting whatever take-home projects he was working on. This time, Rhys hurried to the bedroom, shutting the door silently behind and resting his forehead against it. He took a few deep breaths, calming down as much as he could.

He didn’t need Vaughn seeing this.

When he was ready, Rhys pushed away from the door, turning with dread to his mirror. It was like ripping off a bandage; he dragged his hoodie off over his head and stood in front of the reflection to finally get a look at what Jack had put on him.

The collar was a lot less ostentatious than he expected: a black band just wide enough to not chafe his skin, edged with a metallic yellow material somehow entirely unlike gold. Spaced out across the band were studs. They were subtle, but when Rhys dragged his thumb over a few, he could feel the hum of some sort of electricity in them.

He had the feeling the collar wasn’t just for show.

Tipping his head back, Rhys continued to trace the collar with his fingertips, mapping the circumference by touch. There was no mechanism to open it that he could find.

Aware it was a bit futile, he tried to scan the collar with his ECHO eye using the mirror. It didn’t work, only spitting back information about the mirror itself to him, and Rhys wasn’t all that interested in how bulletproof it was.

He needed help.

The last thing he wanted was to tell Vaughn about what had happened, but he didn’t have many options. Sighing, Rhys ventured out into the living room, going to stand by Vaughn’s chair. He wasn’t paying Rhys any attention, reading an ECHO log diligently. Another take-home project, probably.

Rhys sighed. “Vaughn.”

“One sec,” Vaughn mumbled, eyes tracking over the screen rapidly. “Actually, more than one sec, I sort of need to--” Rhys growled and grabbed the ECHO, tossing it aside. “What the hell, Rhys?!”

Rhys bent down, bracing himself on the arm of the chair and lifting his chin. “I need you to scan this, tell me what it is.”

Vaughn pushed up his glasses, squinting. There was a second during which he didn’t say anything, didn’t _move_. Rhys assumed it was his brain catching up with his eyes. “Is that…”

“Just-- come on, you have that scanner still, right?”

“Yeah, yeah… hang on.” Giving Rhys a bewildered look, Vaughn pushed himself out of his chair and stumbled off to his room.

Rhys sat down, rubbing his face before his hand migrated back down to touch the collar again. The fabric was so strange to the touch, sleek like silk but also something else entirely, like it was woven from very fine wires. He pressed it between two fingers and rotated it around his neck slowly. The inside was different, somehow softer, closer to fabric than the rest of it. It moved nicely, forcing Rhys to suppress a shiver.

Vaughn returned, a handheld ECHO scanner in his hands. It was a bulky, inelegant device that was functionally similar to the one in Rhys’ head. It was less convenient and something of a relic, but it had its uses. Like now.

“Hang on, signing in. I’ve not used this thing in a while, usually I just ask you… There.” Vaughn held the scanner up triumphantly. “Okay, hold still.”

Nodding, Rhys bent his head, giving Vaughn room to swipe its blue light over his neck.

Sitting on the arm of the chair, Vaughn stared at the scanner as it collated results; Rhys got the impression it was so he wouldn’t have to look any more at the collar. The frisson of tension through him was obvious. Clearing his throat, Vaughn said, “All right, what’s this say…” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Hyperion issue, as if the color scheme didn’t give that away. According to this, this is called a _collar_ , generically enough. Nothing more specific about it outside a model number. You’ll be pleased to know this one is the latest iteration and comes with…”

Rhys said nothing, waiting and watching as Vaughn read silently first before going on. “It reads the vitals of the wearer, has an ECHO net tracker, and it’s made out of some high-end smart cloth that’ll contort to fit snugly and repair most damage. There’s also…” Here, he faltered again, squinting at the screen. “This… doesn’t make sense.”

“Just tell me,” Rhys said.

“So it’s got a biometric lock. Fair enough. But this one… okay.” He handed the scanner to Rhys and reached a hand up under his glasses to rub his eyes. “Even the most secure biometric lock systems have multiple IDs programmed with unlock permissions. For-- for instance, the owner’s on of those IDs, obviously. But there’s also the tech support team and the manufacturer security team and-- and at least a few IDs associated with QA testing, right? You can’t just have _one ID_ , in case it needs to be recovered or if the device malfunctions or there’s a lock out, _something.”_

Rhys read along the information from the ECHO net. “This one only has one unlock ID.”

“Yeah, that’s… really dangerous, how did…” He looked at Rhys, his gaze flicking down to his neck and back again. “Rhys, what’s going on?”

“I…” Rhys handed the scanner back and curled his hand around his neck. There was something cresting in him, a vivid feeling cutting like knives. It was intense and rising like a tide, and Rhys had _no idea_ what it was. “I have a new job.”

“What? How? What does that have to do with it?”

“Handsome Jack,” Rhys said simply, because it was easier than explaining the entire _office pet_ thing, the job interview, the elevator kidnapping him, and signing that agreement without even fully _reading it_. That was the worst part, probably, and in hindsight he knew it. There was something weird about Jack, how he made Rhys feel reckless and invincible.

It was a problem.

Vaughn’s mouth worked for a moment, useless half-syllables tumbling out before he took off his glasses and rubbed his face with both hands. “Wow. Okay. Okay, I’m going…” He shook his head and replaced his glasses. “We’ll call Fiona, tell her--”

“Tell her what?” Rhys asked quietly.

“--And I’ll book you that shuttle off Helios.” Vaughn was nodding to himself, satisfied with his plan. As he stood, Rhys reached out, grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him back onto the chair arm. Vaughn turned to him again, eyes narrowing. “Rhys! This is serious!”

“Yeah, it is. But listen, there’s nothing we can do.”

“No, Rhys. No, _you listen,_ you-- you have talked Fiona down too many times. This has gone too far and you need to--”

Rhys lifted an eyebrow at Vaughn. “Need to go back to Pandora with a collar on my neck that’s got a tracker hooked up to the ECHO net?”

To his grim satisfaction, Vaughn shut his mouth with a click.

Squeezing his arm, Rhys spoke slowly, talking himself through it as much as he was talking Vaughn through it. “You’re right. This went too far and that’s-- I messed up. But _now_?” He smiled. “Now, I work for the president himself. If I can keep this going, we’ll have access to anything. Stock tips will be small-time compared to what we can do with this. And if I-- I can’t get out of it because of this,” he waved vaguely to his neck, to the collar, “then we should at least make the best of it, right?”

Vaughn hung his head more and more as Rhys spoke. Resignation hung heavy on his shoulders and in his voice. “Okay. That sounds… logical and all, but what are you going to tell Fiona?”

That was a great question. “I… will let you know. Once I’ve, uh. Figured that out.”

“ _Rhys_!” Vaughn hissed. “You have to tell her!”

“I will!”

“Today!”

“Not today! Not until I know what to say!” Rhys jabbed a finger into Vaughn’s shoulder. “Hey, come on, Vaughn. I need you, bro. I need you to be on my side here.” He tipped his head to the side, eyes wide and guileless.

Vaughn didn’t look impressed. Frowning deeply, he got up and retreated to the kitchen. “You should tell her.”

“I know. I’m a bad person, the worst on Helios.” He turned on the chair, sitting sideways and hooking his long legs off the opposite arm. Of its own volition, his hand lifted to rub against the collar idly. “Grab me a beer, will you?”

 

* * *

 

 _Snugly_ , is what Vaughn had said about the fit of the collar.

Sleeping that night, Rhys decided the word was _conspicuous_.

It didn’t hurt, that wasn’t the problem. The collar was just tight enough that he _felt it._ It woke him several times out of a deep sleep, always to find his hand curled under his chin, knuckles brushing against the band.

For once, Rhys woke up before Vaughn, though it would be more accurate to say he gave up on trying to get back to sleep before Vaughn got up. Either way, the apartment was quiet as he hooked his arm back on and sat on the edge of his bed, trying to decide what people _did_ this early in the morning. It was a new experience for him.

He could have just lazed around the apartment, but if he stuck around, he’d have to call Pandora. So it was fair to say that wasn’t an option. He had to go out somewhere.

It was what passed for logic for him at 0600 hours.

Helios was huge. It was really just jaw-droppingly large. Rhys hadn’t realized this when he was living on Pandora; he’d grown up under its watchful eye, always looking up to see the steel-blue H sitting cozy in its Lagrangian point. It stopped feeling like a _place_ and more of a thing, an observer. The idea that people _lived_ on it had taken time to get used to.

Living there himself, there were times it seemed larger than Pandora itself, which was ridiculous. Pandora had it’s huge cities and it’s more modest settlements, but wide open forests and deserts and ice plains between them. Helios used every inch of its real estate. The space station was just so much more expansive than he could have fathomed. Just the Hub of Heroism made Hollow Point look quaint.

The Hub was in L tower, up towards the top (as much as “up” and “top” existed in space). It was an enormous, showy entry hall and shopping center right off one of the space docks, built on wide, branching platforms in an expansive, open cavity. Beneath the platforms was a steep drop into golden fog; above, the ceiling was so far away it was out of sight. It was large enough to have its own _weather patterns_ , albeit controlled by computer. There was sometimes snow or a brisk cool rain. Once a week there was an actual downpour, pattering against the awnings and tapping against the metal and glass roofs.

The Hub was filled with shops and boutiques and places to get food, both take-away and some nice sit-down restaurants. There were enough personnel and tourists to Helios that apparently an ornate gilded shopping mall was economical for Hyperion. Rhys had no idea how that worked.

But he liked it. It was a grand open area to walk around in, which was a rarity in L tower.

Today, Rhys was walking around for more than just an idle fancy. He dressed in his hoodie and jeans and comfortable shoes, walked through the Hub, and tried not to look like someone who was wearing a biometrically locked collar around his neck.

Being in public wearing it was a challenge. More than anything, Rhys wanted to hunch up in his hoodie and hide as much as he could. He didn’t want it to be noticed.

But if he was going to do this, if he was going to be Handsome Jack’s _office pet_ , then he needed to learn to do this.

Rhys kept his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to touch his neck again, strolling past the windows of the shops. He slowed in front of each display, looking critically at everything from guns to luxury OZ kits to blown glass paperweights of various colonized planets. Eventually, he stopped checking the collar in the reflection of every window. That was something, at least.

He could be calm about this. He could learn to be.

Not for the first time, Rhys wondered what Fiona would say about that.

It wasn’t their first choice, sending _him_ to Helios. Fiona would have been better; it was the open secret about the job. She was more experienced than he was, had been the one to teach him everything he knew about grifting. As far as their skill sets went, the only point in his favor was his willingness to sleep with his marks if needed. If it wasn’t for her criminal record, they would have sent her instead of him.

It bothered Rhys a lot, the _what if_. What would have happened if Fiona was in his shoes, if she’d have made the same decisions he did.

Probably not, Rhys thought with a fond smile to himself.

He got melancholic when he was hungry. In pursuit of a great, healthy breakfast to start the day right, Rhys bought a small paper bag of cinnamon sugar churros, some crunchy pastry sticks he’d never seen before coming to Helios.

There were several observation decks around the Hub, but only one he frequented. It was separate from the rest, unfortunately situated on the opposite side of a two-story shop that blocked its view of the Hub.

But, provided you knew where to sit, it had a nice view of Pandora.

The window was far enough away that the glass was invisible to him, and the planet seemed to be so much closer for it, like if he reached out far enough he could touch it.

Rhys sat, munched on his churros, and indulged in some homesickness.

With some amusement, he realized the truth: if he went back now, he’d likely get the shit kicked out of him. So long living on Helios took its toll. It wasn’t even the Hyperion-branded clothes, though they didn’t help much. It was something deeper than that. More and more, he felt like there was something about Hyperion getting under his skin, putting little hooks in him.

It had never bothered him before when it was just part of the game, part of his job. Pulling free from a few hooks wasn’t a big deal. It stung, but getting loose wasn’t too difficult.

Rhys, comfortably out of view of everyone else in the Hub, reached up and curled his palm around his neck.

This was more than a few little hooks.

There was a tingle in the back of his skull as he turned the collar slowly around his neck again. He should have been thinking about how to minimize the danger he was in, or about what he was going to say to Fiona, or about how he could use this new job to get useful information, _something_.

Instead, he was distracted thinking about the smooth glide of the band against his skin, hooking a finger into it and pulling.

For the first time, Rhys worried that Hyperion was getting to him. That it was _domesticating_ him.

He really should have been a lot more worried.

Instead, he sat with his ankles crossed, leaning back against the bench, eating slowly and toying with the collar around his neck, thinking about Monday.

Fiona wouldn’t have done that. She would have done… something else. Something smarter. Something _safer_.

But Fiona wasn’t there, and all Rhys could do was lift his drink to the glowing visage of Pandora in the window and hope for the best.

 

* * *

 

He managed to dodge Fiona and Sasha until Sunday evening.

He _still_ didn’t have a plan by the time he was sitting down in front of the communicator and engaging the call. He probably should have.

He’d been… distracted.

The only forethought he managed was dodging the call until he was alone. Every time the communicator beeped at them, Vaughn had been quick to turn to Rhys with his arms crossed and a disapproving frown on his face. As though Rhys didn’t already _know_.

So once Vaughn stepped out, Rhys finally engaged the call, running his metal fingers through his hair as it slowly made connection and the video feed flicked on.

Sasha was in Fiona’s usual chair and looked up sharply at the communicator. “Oh! Fi, look who _finally_ graced us with his presence!” She leaned back hard enough to make the chair squeak loudly, hands lifted in an incredulous shrug. “Where have _you_ been?”

It was the most basic question and Rhys still wasn’t sure what to say. “I, uh, oh you know, just… stuff.” He almost reached for his neck, but stopped himself halfway there.

Fiona walked into the frame and leaned her arms on the back of the chair, peering severely at him. “Stuff.”

“Nothing important,” Rhys said. “Sorry about the dry spell, I’m trying to-- to get a foothold in somewhere.”

“If you had nothing important on, then why haven’t you been answering our calls?” Her eyes narrowed, perfectly mirrored on Sasha’s face. It was eerie, their resemblance so much stronger when they were upset with him. The power of both of them staring him down made Rhys sink down further into his sweater, tucking his chin down.

“He’s doing the big eyes look,” Sasha said with a sigh. “Rhys, you know that doesn’t work on us.”

“Someday it might,” he said petulantly, but dialed it back anyway.

Fiona tossed her hat onto the table with a weary flick of her hand, stepping around Sasha to lean forward, elbows on the surface. Her face was very close to the screen, and Rhys could see the little tired lines around her eyes, the way the streak in her hair needed refreshing, the slope of her shoulders. It was hard to look at.

“Rhys, I don’t want to be the bad guy here,” she said, voice low and stern. “We are frankly _not hurting_ for bad guys. But you are getting…”

“Squirrely?” Sasha offered lightly.

“Avoidant. And this isn’t about... “ Fiona tucked her bangs behind her ear, sighing quietly. “This isn’t like a curfew or anything. You know how to do your job. But I still need to know you’re all right and what’s going on with you. That’s _my_ job, Rhys.”

He shut his eyes, pressing his lips together. He was just… the worst, the absolute worst for doing this to her. He knew it.

What he should have done was tell her, give her all the details of the last few days, show her the collar. If it wasn’t an admission of failure, he would have.

Admitting he’d fucked up was hard, and Rhys wanted the chance to fix things first. Selfish, really.

Opening his eyes, he said, “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… I want to have something to show for being here.”

A pang of guilt hit him as Fiona’s expression gentled. “You’re doing great, Rhys. There’s always slow periods in this profession. You just have to keep at it.”

Sasha smirked from behind Fiona’s shoulder. “Maybe get a haircut, or buy one of those shirts with the low cut neck. You’ve got ink, show it off.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “You realize I don’t get anything out of… of, like, indiscriminately pulling people in, right? It has to be the right mark.”

She laughed. “If you say so. You look a little tense, is all.”

“You try living on Helios for months on end and--” he cut himself off, shaking his head hard. “I’m fine. Don’t worry so much.”

Sasha lifted her eyebrows. “Worry? I don’t worry about you. This girl though.” She hooked a thumb towards Fiona, who swatted her hand away with an annoyed grunt.

“I’m his handler, I’m _supposed_ to.”

“Uh huh.” Sasha shared a sly, knowing look with Rhys. “But yeah, what Fiona said. Don’t be a stranger or we’re going to wire Vaughn that payment for your imminent ass-kicking.”

It was a way to lighten the mood, to make things less tense before they signed off, but Fiona was still staring at Rhys. Her eyes flicked this way and that, and Rhys held as still as he could, letting her read him.

“Are you sure everything’s good?” she asked, quietly enough the communicator struggled to pick up her voice.

It was a rare thing, that lying would leave him feeling sick, but now he felt it. Now, it was different. When he was lying to anyone else in the universe, Rhys didn’t feel a thing.

Fiona was different. But then, she always was.

Rhys smiled, hoping it didn’t look too forced on his face. “When something comes up, I’ll let you know,” he said, wishing the words didn’t taste so sour in his mouth.

He swallowed, and felt the band around his neck shift, near and present.

 

* * *

 

Rhys wished he could say he was surprised to find himself laying awake and staring at the ceiling the night before his big day. In just a few hours, he was supposed to show up in Jack’s office, at his beck and call. Or so he assumed.

There were a lot of regrets keeping Rhys awake. Lying to Fiona was at the top of the list, the undisputed champion of terrible decisions he knew he was going to pay for later. But there was also the fact he hadn’t read that ECHO he’d signed. At the time, he hadn’t thought it’d be important-- after all, he was professional fraud, breaking contracts was sort of what he _did_.

But with 0900 ticking closer as Rhys restlessly spun his wheels, he wished he’d gotten a copy, something to indicate what he’d be doing for Jack.

Or really anything more than a collar.

His arm was off, hooked up to recharge. With his remaining hand, he traced the band again. He’d worried at the thing a thousand times in the past few days, unable to resist the incongruous texture under the pads of his fingers. The slight pressure of it was always there, and affecting. It’d kept him up before but when he’d managed to sleep, he’d dreamt vividly of a hand cupping his neck, the comfort of that pressure.

Rhys had always liked that sort of thing. Nothing was better than sitting in the caravan with Sasha and whining quietly at her until she put a hand in his hair. On long, bumpy drives when they took turns driving, it was the only thing that let Rhys sleep.

That said, there was something more to the collar. Something a lot less familial.

He threw his arm across his eyes, groaning. He needed to sleep. Not think about that. Or what was in store for him in the morning. Definitely not that.

He shouldn’t have thought about the cool stone floors under him, sending gooseflesh along his arms and legs, the shiver that wanted to run down his spine only to be abated by Jack curled over him, warm and solid behind him and holding him down. Hands that directed him as much as they steadied him.

 _Cupcake_ , the hard consonants only softened a little by whatever Jack’s accent was. The prickle of the pet names and how they should have pissed Rhys off but didn’t, _really_ didn’t, his eyes pinching shut against the wave of want that hit him.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Rhys said, sharp and annoyed but also resigned to it as he worked his hand under the covers and squeezed his dick. It was _fine_ , it was a _sleep aid_ even, he could just do it and finally fall asleep. He’d even get enough rest to make it to Jack’s office on time and thus avoid getting escorted out of an airlock.

For a moment, he laid on his back, working himself up, hardening against his palm. His heels dug back into the bed, bracing for short thrusts up into the circle of his fingers. It didn’t take long for him to spread his legs, pulling the sheets with his knees.

Close, close, but not enough. Rhys tried for about five seconds _not_ to go to that place in his head, to keep it perfunctory and easy, but it wasn’t _working_.

“Dammit.” He rolled over onto his belly, yanked his bedside drawer open and pulled out the lube with the little pump top. It was difficult to move, the downside of sleeping with only one arm. His face mashed into the pillow as he worked his cupped palm back under him, trying not to spill.

He thought about rolling over again, but kneeling like that, head heavy, the way the bed muffled his soft noises, was actually working for him.

Rhys arched his back, moaning into his pillow, mouth open to drag in deep breaths. It wasn’t quite enough, the lack of air making his head spin as his hand worked frantically on his dick. It couldn’t get better, not without a-- a _hand_ holding him down like that. God, he wanted so badly to be wearing his other hand so he could hook his fingers into the collar and _pull_. Delirious and gasping, Rhys pushed his face down harder, almost hearing it in his head, the soft warm curl of _Oh, kitten, you are something else_ , before he came like a shot, mouth open and tasting cotton and warm air.

Legs shaking, Rhys slumped over onto his side, breathing hard.

Yeah, now he could sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> additional cw for breathplay

In the morning, Rhys didn’t have time to worry about the day ahead of him. He woke up groggy, his alarm knocking him out of a very sound sleep. He was on his way out the door only shortly thereafter, breezing past Vaughn in the kitchen. He saw from the corner of his eye the way Vaughn turned to follow him, his mouth already opening around whatever his latest objection or concern was.

Rhys was not awake enough to deal with Vaughn being all logical at him, and he had an elevator to catch. Instead of giving his friend an opportunity to talk sense into him, he waved once over his shoulder as he left the apartment. Outside, he pivoted on his heel to look back at the door. With a quick flash of his eye, he bade it to close swiftly behind him and lock itself.

As he hurried down the hall, he thought he heard the sound of the door trying to open and catching on its lock.

It was good to have friends like Vaughn. But Rhys was not doing a good thing today.

It so happened that most _actual_ Hyperion employees were also on their way to work. Rhys usually had the luxury of an extra hour of sleep, missing the crowds. Today, he grit his teeth in annoyance as he waited for a chance at the elevator. He needed to get into one alone.

He’d left with plenty of time, but waiting on the elevators took so long, when Rhys stepped out into Jack’s office after his ride across the bridge, his head start was all but gone. He didn’t have time to hesitate in the entryway and forced himself to just _walk_ , into the office and up the stairs to Jack’s desk.

Jack was working at his computer. His fingers pounded the keys with such force, Rhys licked his lips, masking his nervousness with a light tone as he said, “What’d the keyboard do to deserve that, insult your mother?”

“Cute,” Jack said curtly, his eyes flicking away from the screen long enough to sweep over Rhys once. His lip curled. “Oh, we’re going to talk about this in a sec, but for now shut up.”

Rhys nodded even as he wondered what he’d done to garner Jack’s ire. There wasn’t anything to go off, no indication offered as Jack focused on his computer and left Rhys alone with nothing to do in the meanwhile.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He was here. He was on time. It was going to be fine now. And if it _wasn’t_ , well, Rhys was adaptable. He’d learn and do better.

As he waited, he looked round the room again, at the view from the windows, listening to the water fixtures that framed the stairs. It was a surprisingly soothing noise, not something he would have associated with Jack, really.

He watched Jack too, of course, trying to get anything from him. He was plainly annoyed, but that seemed to be directed at whatever was on his monitor, not at Rhys. Or so he hoped. Hard to be certain.

In case it _was_ him, Rhys shifted around, sliding his feet apart and letting his shoulders fall loose. His head hung, face downward, tilted so he could only see Jack through the faint fan of his eyelashes. His arms he folded behind him, one hand clasping the opposite wrist. It was a little formal, a little too military for him usually, but… it was a guess. Right now, with Jack, all he had was his intuition.

And besides, Jack hadn’t told him to kneel yet. Rhys didn’t want to just give that away. This was the next best thing.

Whatever Jack was working on took another five minutes to finish. During, the room was silent but for the water fixtures, Jack’s occasional muttered curses, and the sound of the keys being sorely abused. It was a comfortable array of white noise, and when it suddenly stopped, Rhys’ almost jumped from the absence.

Jack rounded the desk and stepped before Rhys, making a show of looking him over. “What, what is this, a parade rest? I’ve got soldiers, princess, you ain’t them.” He reached out, catching Rhys’ chin and lifting until Rhys was staring into his eyes. “They’re a damn sight more obedient, too. You already testing me, Rhysie?”

Rhys’ eyebrows knit together, a flash of confusion over his face before Jack snorted. “Oh, you’re not being rebellious. You just didn’t fucking _listen_ to me.” Tsking loudly, Jack pushed Rhys’ face away, instead grabbing the shoulders of his jacket and nearly ripping it off him. “I told you I wanted you stripped when you walked in here, and yet here you are.” He began unbuttoning Rhys’ shirt, starting at the neck and working downward.

Rhys… had forgotten, actually. Now that Jack mentioned it, he did recall that rule being laid down, but since Jack had followed that up with putting Rhys on his knees and getting them both off… it’d slipped Rhys’ mind. He swallowed thickly and murmured, “Sorry, Jack.”

One corner of Jack’s lips twisted upward, a lopsided smirk. “If I get this fully unbuttoned before you take over, I’m gonna put you over my knee, and not in a fun way. Well,” he chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his chest, low and rumbly. “I’ll find it fun. Maybe you will too, who knows. We’re still getting to know each other, aren’t we, kitten?”

Something about that punched the air out of Rhys, a hard exhale that left him stunned for a moment before he caught up. His hands slipped under Jack’s, finishing the last two buttons quickly before dropping his shirt down onto the floor with his jacket. He continued on, undoing his belt, his pants.

Jack tipped Rhys’ head back with a single finger, smiling at the collar around his neck. His hand was warm and rough as it cupped against Rhys’ pulse, thumb dragging hard across the collar. “Very nice. It’ll do for now, until I get the other one in.” Before Rhys could ask what _that_ meant, he let go, stepping back. “You done yet?”

Rhys shoved everything down and bent hurried to get his shoes and socks off, almost overbalancing as his heel got caught. Jack laughed and gripped Rhys by his hair, helping steady him. Rhys hissed in pain at the way his hair pulled, struggling not to sway and invite more hurt.

Naked, he stayed bent over for a moment, unsure if he was allowed to straighten with Jack holding him like that. Slowly, he looked up. Jack was smiling, but in a way that made Rhys feel like something less than himself, maybe a fondly regarded but useless pet.

“Tomorrow,” Jack said, pulling up and urging Rhys along until he was standing on his toes, eyes watering a little at the sting. “You will be down to your boxers before you even try to come up to my desk. There’s a closet by the elevator, you’ll keep your things there.”

Rhys nodded as much as he could. “Yes, Jack.”

He let go and gave Rhys a brisk slap on the cheek. “I like a good listener.”

Rhys was ready for more, to be pushed to his knees or knocked to the floor, maybe bent over the desk. Instead of any of that, Jack went back to sit in his chair, leaving Rhys standing, waiting.

He almost said something, half a syllable out of his mouth before he stopped. Jack looked at him sharply, eyes narrow, and Rhys stilled, hanging his head, chastised.

That was the right choice, apparently, as Jack’s glare vanished. It wasn’t the choice Rhys wanted though. As he continued to wait, Jack put his heels up on his desk, pulling his keyboard onto his lap as he worked. For a while, he didn’t so much as look at Rhys.

It was fucking torture. Jack’s attention was intense and a little terrifying, but it was also exhilarating. When it was so close and yet withheld, Rhys felt himself getting annoyed, almost stung. He’d messed up early on, but he’d fixed that, and yet Jack was ignoring him.

Rhys reached up, touching his neck, and saw Jack’s gaze snap back to him at the movement.

He looked at Rhys’ face, at his neck, at his hand frozen mid-motion, and Jack grinned in a way that made Rhys’ toes curl.

“Pumpkin, get me another coffee,” Jack told him, turning back to his work.

It was embarrassing, how eagerly Rhys jolted into movement, picking up Jack’s mug and looking around, scanning the room. “Uhm.”

Pointing lazily, Jack said, “Wall section there, opens up with you touch it. Tiny bit of milk, shitton of sugar.”

Nodding, Rhys jumped to the task, trotting across to the wall, moving as fast as he could without running. It was ridiculous, but the huge windows in the office made him think someone could look in and see him… but outside was _space_.

Maybe if someone on Pandora had a _really_ good telescope, maybe…

Shaking his head ruefully to himself, Rhys found the coffee maker, which was actually a _press_. He floundered for a moment, unsure how the thing worked, but that was what his ECHO eye was for. After a quick scan and a skim of the instructions, Rhys was soon carrying the mug of coffee back up the steps and setting it on Jack’s desk.

Jack blew across the top of the mug before taking a sip. He grimaced at the taste. “More sugar next time, I’m not kidding,” he said. “You use that trick a lot?”

“Trick?”

“Bullshitting with the ECHO net’s help.”

“Oh,” Rhys mumbled. “I mean, sort of? When I need to.”

“You get video on that model?” Jack wasn’t looking at him as he spoke, his fingers working fast over the keyboard even as his voice remained steady. “Can you beam porn right into your eyeballs?”

“Only the one,” Rhys replied, voice wry. “It’s a little weird if you have to keep one eye closed the whole time.”

Jack snorted. “Uh huh. And your arm, it come with any fun _massage_ options? Any cool attachments, maybe with beads?”

He was pretty sure he was being tested, though Rhys had no idea for _what_. It was possible Jack just wanted to push his buttons and see him squirm. Smiling to himself, Rhys decided he’d have to do better than that. “Not standard, but I can overclock the palm CPU and run a few heavy processes to make the hand warm up.”

“Not the sex ‘bot of my dreams then. Why’d I hire you again?”

Definitely a test. Rhys shrugged off the initial sting of Jack’s words. Walking around the desk, he sat on the corner next to the computer monitor, leg crossed over his knee, leaning back on his hands. Here, Jack couldn’t ignore him so easily and Rhys smiled at him. “I, uh. If I had to guess, because I make a good first impression? And I talk back, so.”

Jack’s feet came off his desk, two heavy thuds against the floor as he stood. There was no thought involved as Rhys shifted back further onto the desk, nervous as Jack leaned over him. Silhouetted in the window, he became an intimidating sight, only furthered by the way he asked in a low, dark voice, “You think I like your back talk, pumpkin?”

He had, but now he wasn’t so sure. Rhys took a deep breath, trying to calm the hell down. It was hard with Jack looming. Honestly, Rhys wasn’t used to anyone being _able_ to loom over him. It was a new experience, one that made his knuckles go white as he gripped the edge of the desk.

“I… I thought maybe…” He was cut off by Jack gripping his neck. It was like before, the feeling of his palm against sensitive skin, but this time more, his thumb pushing harder. Rhys’ teeth clicked as he shut his mouth suddenly, letting out a whine.

“I don’t pay you for that, kitten, I pay you to listen. Are you going to listen?”

Rhys nodded. He was flushing all over, he could feel it. It was simultaneously amazing and terrible, how this _got_ to him.

“Good.” His fingers hooked into Rhys’ collar, pulling slightly. Rhys’ entire body moved along with him until he was on his feet again. “I want you to jerk off now.”

“What? Why?” Rhys blurted before he could think better of it. Jack’s grip on his neck returned, his thumb pressing down harder, and Rhys gasped, found he couldn’t get a full breath. His hand wrapped around Jack’s wrist.

“Kitten, what did I _just say_?” Jack hissed in his ear. He held on for a few more seconds before his hand loosened, and Rhys sucked in a lungful of air, face hot.

“Sorry, m’sorry, Jack.” He leaned his cheek against Jack’s hand, just catching his breath again for a moment.

“Not yet you aren’t,” Jack said coolly. “Come on, then, I asked for a show.”

He had. Rhys nodded, pulling himself together. At least now he was half-hard, which... frankly Rhys hadn’t known that about himself ninety seconds ago and had no idea how he felt about it. He could figure that out later though; Jack was watching him, his hands tucking into his pockets as Rhys rubbed up and down his own thighs for a moment.

There was something more difficult about this. Getting on his knees and blowing someone, that was easy. Wrapping his fingers around himself and squeezing, feeling himself getting harder as Jack watched, that was something else entirely. It made the flush in his face sweep down across his chest, a shiver teasing his spine until he shuddered, letting out a soft moan.

 _A show_. He hadn’t expected that, and it was an odd sticking point. Rhys knew how to make a mark feel good, like they were the center of his world for a while and the power that gave him over them. It was a great tactic.

He was snapped out of his own thoughts with another slap against his face, just hard enough to make his cheek sting, to make him startle. Jack watched him, rubbing his chin ponderously. “We are definitely going to have to work on your ability to do as you’re told, Rhysie.” There was a chord in his voice, like he was actually disappointed.

It cut into Rhys, sharp and red. He wanted to do _something_ to apologize, but…

Inhaling slowly, he shut his eyes and stroked his cock, slowly at first and then building a good rhythm. He needed to get it together, to do this. He couldn’t bribe his way out of it, this was his first day.

 _Lie back and think of Hollow Point_.

“There, that’s better,” Jack murmured, and he was close enough Rhys could feel the words against his cheek. He bit his lip, squeezing harder and keeping his eyes carefully shut. “I knew you could do it, kitten.” One finger hooked into the collar, pulling as Rhys groaned.

The collar. A thought hit Rhys all at once: did Jack _know_? Vaughn had said the collar tracked Rhys’ vitals. Did Jack know he’d done this already, got off just like this, did Jack see the spike in his vitals last night, was there an _alarm_ that went off, _something_?

Rhys’ breath hitched, so turned on he was dizzy.

He felt himself getting close, the tension in his gut winding tighter. He gasped, the warmth of Jack standing right next to him unmistakeable with the almost evergreen smell of his cologne. He could hear it when Jack chuckled. “Good job, kitten. Now stop.”

Lost in his own head, it took a moment for Jack’s latest order to make sense.

It was a moment too long. Jack grabbed his hand, wrenching it away and using it to push Rhys back. He was knocked backward, slamming down hard onto the desk, landing with a shocked sound. He was pushed up further until his feet left the ground, legs swinging uselessly as all his leverage vanished. Jack planted a knee between his legs, climbing up and balancing over Rhys. His grip on Rhys’ neck was stern, cutting off the air as he watched Rhys’ face closely, eyes flashing.

“Are you _ignoring me_ , Rhysie?” Jack asked, growling. Rhys shook his head, unable to do anything but let out a strangled gasp. Jack sighed and loosened his grip for a second, enough for Rhys to get a breath before cutting him off before he could say anything. “This is what I’m talking about. We’re going to work on this until you learn.” His thumb stroked once down Rhys’ windpipe. “And if it takes _this_ to make you pay attention, well.”

Something in Rhys’ hindbrain sat up excitedly at that even as the rest of him tried to hold onto the instinctual panic that came from not being able to breathe. God, what had he gotten himself into?

Jack held him like that for a long moment, long enough that Rhys clumsily caught Jack’s elbow with his metal hand. He meant to push Jack’s grip away or try to pry him off, but found himself stilling instead. Jack’s eyes were attentive on him, darting between Rhys’ face and his hand, lingering appraisingly on the grip Rhys had on his jacket. He didn’t move, waiting.

Rhys shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the desk, his fingers curled lax in place, undemanding.

It was another hunch, another time Rhys faulted with his intuition. It paid off: the hand around his neck followed suit, going lax as well, and Rhys gasped a few times, laying there until his breathing evened out again.

Damn if he wasn’t starting to get used to that. It was probably backwards, how the more Jack cut off his air, the less Rhys thought Jack was actually going to strangle him. He was almost too conscious of how limited that circle must’ve been, the people who’d had Jack’s hands around their throat and _survived_.

 _Reckless_ , he scolded himself sharply before opening his eyes. Jack was bent over him still, head tipped to the side, the anger drained from him, leaving something closer to curiosity.

Rhys wondered what the hell Jack thought of him.

The spell was broken when the computer chimed brightly, drawing Jack’s attention away. “Ah, right. Conference call with some people in robotics.” He slid backward, settling onto his feet again. His hand remained around Rhys’ wrist as he pulled him upright. “Go get yourself a drink and keep your mouth shut until my call is finished.”

Rhys nodded, lips pressed together, and was rewarded with a smirk from Jack and a hand ruffling his hair. “You’re getting it, pumpkin. Slow as molasses in winter, but you’re getting it.”

 

* * *

 

His first day was long and strange. Rhys was pretty sure it was as much of a test run as his “interview,” with Jack barking orders at him and ignoring him for long stretches, a constant mercurial cycle that forced Rhys to stay on his toes.

Around lunch, he’d sat on the steps leading to Jack’s desk and just listened to the water features, happy to let his mind go blank to the calming noises rather than think too much on what had happened. After, Jack had bent him over the desk, face pressed hard to the surface, and gave him a list of five things to do, then set him loose to run around doing them. When Rhys had accidentally done item four before three, Jack had been _disappointed_ again. It was just as gutting as last time.

It was all so _exhausting_. When it was finally time to leave, Rhys had taken entirely too long getting his clothes back on, his mind slow and his fingers uncoordinated. Jack waited on him without comment but looked entirely too pleased at the state he’d put Rhys in.

“Get some sleep, pumpkin, maybe skip the late night jerk off, eh?” Jack clapped Rhys on the back, laughing at the sudden dumbstruck expression on his face.

It was probably the weirdest day of Rhys’ life, and upon getting back to the apartment, Rhys threw himself across the sofa face-first, his legs hanging awkwardly over the arm as he sprawled bonelessly on the cushions. He could feel bruises starting to appear over his body, marks he’d be able to press his fingers against to reignite the ache, remembering where each came from.

Even that, though, would have to wait. Before Rhys knew it, he dozed off like that, sleeping until later when Vaughn shook him, saying his name imploringly.

“Nngh,” Rhys said, turning his head and squinting at Vaughn. “Why?” he asked, wondering what had led his friend to betray him this way.

“You were snoring,” Vaughn said. He pushed Rhys’ shoulder until he could sit down on the one cushion of the sofa that Rhys had not colonized with his far-flung sprawl. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”

Rhys rolled over onto his back slowly. “I told you he wasn’t going to kill me,” he said around a yawn.

“He kills a lot of people, it was a valid concern. _Is_ , still is.”

Waving a hand, Rhys said, “He literally hired me to entertain him. If he killed me, what good would that do? Be fun for a few minutes, but long run?”

Vaughn pushed up his glasses to rub his eyes. “I… guess that makes sense.”

" _Thank_ you," Rhys said. It was nice when his friends actually trusted him. If he'd gotten anything out of his time with Jack today, it was the notion that Jack honestly wasn't planning on killing him anytime soon.

Unless he figured out what Rhys' angle really was. The day the whole con man-snuck-onto-Helios thing came to Jack’s attention, yeah, Rhys was probably dead. But if he hadn't been flagged by Hyperion security yet...

Rhys wasn’t worried, though that might’ve been because he was too damn tired to work up the energy.

"I should tell Fiona," Rhys said.

Vaughn couldn't hide the surprise on his face. "You... Yeah, uh _yeah_ , you should definitely tell her. Are you finally going to?"

Putting it off was only going to make everything worse. Rhys knew that. He also knew that, to some degree, he was safe from his friend’s wrath just thanks to being so far from home. Fiona was his handler, but the distance made that position more advisory than anything, barring the times he dug up information for her to use. At the end of the day, it was up to Rhys to make the ground-level decisions, so to speak.

But Helios was not forever. When he got back, returned home to Hollow Point, Rhys sort of wanted to avoid a _welcome home_ punch to the jaw. Fiona’s right hook was brutal.

"Yeah," Rhys sighed. "Yeah, I'm going to call her now, get her caught up."

"That's great. I'm proud of you, man," Vaughn said, patting Rhys' shoulder as he sat up. "You're doing the right thing."

"Don't patronize me." He swatted at Vaughn, frowning.

"Heh, sorry. So you do that and..." Vaughn stood up, backing away from Rhys quickly. “I'm just going to do some work, maybe, uh, do some time on the bike. I'll just be in the other room."

"Coward," Rhys called after him as Vaughn retreated into the small office, nearly slamming the door behind himself in his haste to leave.

He couldn't blame his friend, honestly. He didn't want to do this either, and he was the one who actually had to make the call.

Allowing himself enough time to grab a beer from the fridge first, Rhys settled in to set up the communicator and call Pandora. As always, it took a while for the connection to establish, but eventually Sasha picked up, sitting heavily on the chair in front of her communicator and grinning.

“Hey there, stranger. How’s life with the most loveless, ruthless, stone-hearted megacorporation from hell going?”

Rhys shrugged, smiling at the descriptor. It wasn’t inaccurate, not at all. “It’s… interesting. Sort of why I’m checking in.” He took a steadying breath. “So, uh, how’s-- how’s Fiona’s mood today? Just wondering.”

Sasha’s smile vanished like a light going out, leaving suspicion on her face as her eyebrows knit together. “What did you do?”

“What, why-- haha,” Rhys started babbling, trying to aim for a casual tone and missing by about a mile and at least an octave. “What makes you think that it’s my fault, that’s not really fair.”

Sasha didn’t look impressed. If anything, her suspicion grew. “Oh god, what happened?”

This already wasn’t going how he’d wanted. He floundered for a moment, but Sasha was glaring at him and he managed to say, “It’s… a little complicated. Look, I’ll tell you, but you _can’t_ tell Fiona, okay? I-- I need to ease her into it.”

Sasha sighed deeply. "This is going to be great, I can already tell."

He tried to smile at that. “It is, actually! You guys just need to trust me and that I know what I’m doing.” Moment of truth. He took a long breath, in and out, before just saying it. “I started a new job today. I’m working for Handsome Jack.”

The reaction was immediate. Sasha’s eyes popped wide and she stood, turning to shout, “Fiona! _Fiona_ , get in here, Fi!” She stepped off the screen and out of Rhys’ view.

"Shit, Sasha, don't--" She was gone, and Rhys sighed, sinking back against the sofa and putting his face in his hands. "Ohmigod, this is not how I wanted this to go."

He didn’t have to see the screen to know when Fiona showed up. “You _idiot_! You _told me_ it was fine, Rhys! You _told me_ that he wasn’t going to remember you!”

“I know,” Rhys said, muffled through his hands.

“It seems like he remembered you!”

“I _know_ ,” he moaned, dragging his hands slowly down his face. “I know, I know, I _know_ , okay, let me explain.”

“You are coming back home--”

“I _can’t_ ,” Rhys snapped, and reached up to pull the collar of his shirt down, showing off the collar around his neck. “I _literally_ can’t, Fiona, so just-- you can yell at me in a minute, let me…” He huffed out a hollow, humorless laugh. “At least let me explain all the things you’re going to be pissed about before you get into it.”

Fiona’s hand waved as she fumbled to catch the chair, settling hard into her seat. “Rhys. What is _that_?”

Instead of answering, Rhys said, “I was wrong about Jack not remembering me. I ran into him and he followed me into the elevator and offered me a job.”

“Why would he do that?” Sasha asked.

Rhys rolled his eyes, throwing up his hands incredulously before letting them hit the sofa with a _flump_. “I have no idea, he’s got a good memory for closet trysts, who would have bet on that?”

Sasha covered her mouth. “You… did you blow Handsome Jack?” She snorted, shaking her head and looking at the ceiling. “What am I saying, of course you did. This is you.”

Rhys’s lips curved down. “Hey,” he protested.

Fiona nodded along and leaned over to pinch Sasha’s arm hard. Sasha yelped and clapped her hand over the spot. “Ow, that hurt!”

“Don’t be mean,” Fiona chided her, then turned her attention back to Rhys. “He offered you a job, what job?”

“Officially? Something like assistant secretary to the president. But really?” Rhys tapped his neck. “The term he used was _office pet_.”

“What does…” She stopped, shutting her eyes for a moment, seeming to gather herself by the time she opened them again. “What does that entail, exactly?”

“You can’t guess?” Sasha asked, earning her an elbow in the side. She didn’t bother looking sorry.

“Today was my first day, so I’m still figuring that out. So far I just…” Rhys swallowed thickly, replaying a few choice moments from the day in his head. “I do what he asks. Sometimes I just refill the coffee, other times it’s a little more…” He sighed. “Come on, do I have to spell it out?”

“Is he hurting you? Is he--”

Rhys felt himself go pink. “No, no no, no, I’m-- it’s fine, really.”

“Really?” Fiona pressed, looking worried.

“Really, I promise. If it wasn’t… wasn’t _Handsome Jack_ , I would say I’m pretty much down with the arrangement. But anyway,” he pushed on quickly, ignoring the way both Sasha and Fiona’s eyebrows jumped up at that remark. “I’m literally working _in his office_ and that’s… if I can make this work, could you imagine how good this could be?”

“And if you _don’t_ make this work, can you imagine how dead you’ll be?” Fiona shook her head. “No. I don’t like this. I want you home.”

He winced and rubbed the back of his neck, two fingers tracing the collar. “Well, that’s the funny thing, isn’t it? I, uh, I can’t. Come home, that is.”

“Why,” she asked flatly.

“The collar, Jack put it on me after I signed the contract for him-- no, I don’t have a copy, I’ll look into it-- and the collar’s biometrically locked on my neck. _And_ it has an ECHO net tracker,” Rhys explained.

Neither of them spoke for a while, the sisters sharing twin looks of something like horrified awe. Sasha was the first to say something, a simple, quiet, “ _Wow_. Wow,” before she walked out of the camera view.

Fiona’s watched her go before her head swiveled slowly back to Rhys. “Rhys,” she said.

“I know,” Rhys said again. “It’s bad.”

“Bad is a funny way to put it.” She sounded almost contemplative about it. “When we have to get the caravan repaired because we hit another skag, that’s bad. When the landlord tries to evict us because Sasha forgot to drop off the rent, that’s bad.” She pressed her palms flat against her cheeks, shaking her head slowly. “This is… something else entirely, Rhys.”

“If I don’t screw it up, it could mean a lot of good things for us.”

“And if you _do_ screw it up, it could mean you’re _dead_!” She continued to shake her head. “You _told him_ you were trying to access classified information, he already _knows_ , what if he knows the rest of it?”

“Vaughn and Yvette made me look as legit in the Hyperion records as I possibly could be without having actually been hired. If he didn’t get a flag on me yet, I don’t think he’s going to.” Rhys watched her as Fiona stared fearfully at him. “Fiona, it’s not good. I know. But I genuinely don’t think he wants to kill me. I’m apparently too entertaining for that.”

“Is that supposed to be funny? Or-- or make me feel better?”

“Sort of? I…” He sighed. “Until I get this collar off, I’m not going anywhere. So while I’m stuck here, I might as well… do my job.”

“Of course,” Fiona breathed. “I know that. I-- I just don’t like this, Rhys. This-- this _shouldn’t have happened_!”

Rhys tried to smile. “Want me to call Vaughn in here to punch me? You can watch him do it.”

That got a ghost of a laugh from her. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “You’re such a jackass. I’m… I cannot tell you how angry I am with you right now.”

“If it matters, I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t. Or.” She shut her eyes and exhaled slowly. “Right now, it doesn’t. Maybe later. What’s your plan now?”

“I can overhear a _lot_ in Jack’s office. He’s got no problem having conference calls and meetings while I can hear them. I’ll keep him happy and see what I can get in the meantime.”

“Daily updates for the next two weeks,” Fiona said curtly. “You are _not_ going to blindside me like this again.”

“I won’t,” he agreed. “I will check in every night, give you the bullet points of the day. Besides the…” He flushed. “Most of them, anyway. The important ones.”

“Good. Okay.” She blew out a hard breath. “Sasha’s pouring me a glass of that local stuff, the one that’s basically rotgut. I am going to hang up on you and drink some.” She held up a finger. “I’m not done yelling, though, and you had better get us something _amazing_ out of this. You lied and you got in over your head and now we have to keep you alive.”

Rhys nodded along. “Sounds good, fair, all of it, yeah.” He smiled wanly. “Enjoy your drinking. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Fiona. Love you.”

It wasn’t nice, doing that. He could see the way her face twisted, the sentiment hitting her even when she wanted to be mad at him. Begrudgingly, she said, “Love you too. Goodnight,” before ending the call.

Immediately, Vaughn opened the door and leaned out. “You are a _jerk_ ,” he said, pointing accusingly at Rhys.

Rhys ducked his head, hiding his grin. “I know. Hey, you want dinner? Let’s go grab something.” Lifting his head, he winked at Vaughn. “Wait’ll you hear what Handsome Jack pays me, you’ll flip.”

“Good to know the universe’s oldest profession is alive and well,” Vaughn said dryly.

“Business is booming. Come on, my treat.”


	7. Chapter 7

More often than not, Jack had something going on in his office when Rhys arrived. Actually, Rhys spent a lot of time wondering _when_ Jack showed up for the day. He always seemed engrossed in a project, like he’d been at it for hours, even in the early morning and after a late night.

Maybe Jack didn’t sleep. Rhys had considered the possibility more than once.

Today, Rhys took his time putting his clothes away into the entryway closet before padding across the office floor, by now inured to the slight chill under his feet. It was a familiar thing in the face of the way the office changed every day. This time, there was a small shooting range set up. Targets stood against the far left wall, a long table set up in the open space in front of the stairs, and across it, laid out at perfectly even intervals: guns, each one glowing a vibrant purple.

Jack was sitting on the corner of the table, a pistol built of curved metallic yellow casing and that violet light in his hands. He lifted it, hands certain, elbows loose, and sighted down the barrel.

He fired.

One of the targets went up in smoke and sparks, electric fire twisting and curling the material around the bullet hole. The smell from the curdling target was sharp, almost chemical, making Rhys sneeze, covering his mouth.

The sound drew Jack’s attention to him, and as always Rhys had that half-second of cold flush in his veins. It passed quickly as Jack rolled his eyes and waved a hand at the target. “You see this, Rhysie? You see what I have to work with? I ask for a fucking demo on the latest line of e-tech and look at this!”

Rhys looked between Jack and the target he was glaring at-- or the place the target had been. Now, it was just a faintly glowing congealed pile marring the floor.

“They… gave you flammable targets?” Rhys guessed.

Jack ejected the magazine from the pistol, setting it and the gun back on the table before clapping his hands sarcastically. “Congratulations, pumpkin, you are smarter than the shitheel who set this up.” He let out a disgusted noise, looking over the setup with his lips curled into a snarl.

It faded as he looked back at Rhys. “You can come closer. Just don’t touch anything. Not without gloves anyway.”

Rhys nodded and walked to Jack’s side. He held his hands at his sides as he leaned over to look. “They’re, uh. Pretty. I guess.”

“Well, uh, thanks, I guess,” Jack parroted back at him with a snort. “Is this the part where you tell me you work for my company and you don’t like guns?”

Rhys crossed his arms, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t… I just, I don’t own any.”

Jack grunted, a vaguely affirmative noise before picking up the little info card next to the assault rifle. “Plasma burst fire. Causes ricochet,” he read aloud. “Did these stupid sons of bitches give me a ricochet weapon to fire off in my office? Is that what’s happening right now? Is this a goddamn assassination attempt based on me not reading the specs?”

“I like the gold filigree along the...” Rhys said, pointing. It took a second to remember what the sticky-outy part was called. “The stock.”

Jack slapped his hand. “Stop. You’re useless. Go make me a coffee before I have you stand in as a target.”

There was a comfort to that, and Rhys smiled as he went to the coffee station. It’d only been a little over a week, but being in Jack’s presence for extended periods like that, having to deal with his moods all day and obeying orders, it all added up to a fairly quick familiarity.

It was work, but it was the sort of work Rhys liked, why he’d taken so well to con-artistry and being a honeytrap in particular. Learning to anticipate Jack’s whims was a full time job, but it was happening. Or, well. He thought it was.

Rhys made coffee, pulling a face at the ungodly amount of sugar he was putting into the mug. It’d taken a few times for him to catch it, but Jack apparently liked to drink the final few sips of coffee like it was a shot, knocking back the coffee dregs and the sludge-like sugar.

The first time Rhys had seen Jack do it, he’d nearly gagged. Jack had said, “This, princess, this is why I’m a multi-trillionaire and you’re kneeling in a collar.”

“I’m fine with that, honestly,” Rhys had replied, earning a genuine laugh from Jack.

As he carried the coffee back to Jack, he watched Jack settle a sniper rifle back against his shoulder, sighting down the scope and frowning severely. Rhys slowed, waiting for him to say something. There was tension in his hands, the way his fingers tapped incessantly at the trigger. From what little Rhys had picked up from Sasha, he knew it was bad discipline to do that, to touch the trigger at all before you were ready to fire.

So Rhys stopped, and waited until Jack fired off a few shots. The rifle let out odd zipping sounds, the bullets almost blindingly bright as they left the barrel, cutting perfect sizzling holes in the targets.

Jack set the rifle down gingerly with a nod instead of a grimace, so Rhys assumed it had done well enough to pass his inspection. “You know what you should do,” Rhys murmured quietly as he set the coffee down on the table near Jack. “Figure out if eridium can make bottomless coffee mugs. Something useful.”

The implication was clear, and Jack narrowed his eyes at Rhys. Taking a sip of his coffee, though, seemed to calm him, which meant Rhys had gotten the right amount of sugar this time. “Cupcake, you think we haven’t tried? Hyperion’s full of caff-addicted scientists and engineers. R&D had caff pill dispensers until too many dumb schmucks wound up in medical. Neverending coffee was an officially sanctioned research project for about four months.”

“No dice?” Rhys smiled.

“Lucky for you, or what the hell would I need you for?” Jack replied tartly. “You know how to shoot one of these?”

“Uh.” This had been what Rhys was worried about. He took a step back instantly, without conscious thought. It was the worst move he could have made; Jack’s eyes only grew more keen as he watched, his lips curling up slowly.

He crooked a finger. “Come here, Rhysie. What’s your dominant hand?”

Rhys held up his flesh hand warily, and Jack caught it, using the grip on his wrist to pull him in sharply and turn him. Rhys nearly stumbled, his back against Jack’s chest, caged in by long arms around him. “Is this a good idea, I mean--”

“Testing for user friendliness,” Jack told him, smacking his hip hard. “Stop squirming.”

It took serious, conscious effort to stand still. As soon as he managed to calm the jitters in his spine, Jack took up Rhys’ wrists, positioning him. “Of course you gotta be left-handed,” Jack grumbled in his ear, shifting against Rhys’ back so his arms could follow under Rhys’, directing him. “Okay, put these gloves…” Jack started to pull off both his gloves before stopping, seeming to realize something. “Oh, right, obviously. Fine, put _this one_ on at least.”

Rhys smiled to himself, tugging the glove onto his non-metal hand. It was warm from Jack wearing it, the inside soft against his skin in the same way the inner material of his collar was. When he settled it onto his hand and clicked the snap on securely, Jack bent forward, forcing Rhys to move with him, and picked up the SMG. “Keep up, kitten.”

Exhaling hard, Rhys nodded and took the gun from Jack, fumbling for a moment before Jack showed him where to put his hands. “Fuck’s sake, you’ve really never done this before?” Jack asked. Rhys nodded. “Well, least there’s one cherry I can pop.”

“It’s a little weird,” Rhys said, “comparing this to sex.”

“Oh, you have _definitely_ never done this before,” Jack said, laughing, the vibration of it against Rhys’ back. “Okay, safety’s here.” He tapped a latch above Rhys’ thumb. “Flick that to the down position.”

Rhys nodded and did so, exhaling hard after. He wished, in hindsight, he’d let Sasha drag him to the shooting range that one time she’d offered to take him. He’d begged off at the time, because he was the only person on Pandora who still startled at the sound of gunfire, apparently. It would have been better with her, though, rather than the eerie warmth of being guided by Jack with his voice against Rhys’ ear, rough and just above a whisper, so close he didn’t need to speak up at all.

Jack nudged Rhys’ elbows up, then slapped his arm lightly. “Recoil’s going to be here, it’s going to try and drive your arms up. Don’t force the gun still, you’ll hurt yourself, but don’t let it smack you in your face.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhys said, on a whim, on a guess. He felt the way Jack responded, the deep inhale and the way his fingers twitched. He grinned to himself. Intuition. Everything with Jack was about intuition.

Jack’s cheek pressed against the side of Rhys’ head, his breath warm against his jawline as he murmured, “Aim and fire.”

Aiming was easy, especially with Jack helping him. It was the actual firing that was difficult. His finger sat on the trigger, tensing and untensing in turns. Every time he started, his breathing was off or he blinked at the wrong time, something to make him hesitate.

Then, Jack _bit_ him, teeth against his shoulder hard enough that Rhys startled, hand clenching and pulling the trigger. The SMG fired off a triple shot, purple and green flashes that hit not only the target he’d been aiming at but also the ones on either side of it, eroding them to some sort of congealed mess that dripped to the floor.

“Hm. If that wrecks my floor, I’m going to kill someone,” Jack said, dry and conversational. “Safety back on, cupcake, try not to drop it when you put it down. That prototype’s worth more than your life.” His hands slid up along Rhys’ arms, gripping Rhys’ biceps and squeezing, turning Rhys enough to see his face. “Not bad, pumpkin,” he granted with a smirk.

He was oddly glad for Jack’s hold on him now. It’d only been a little burst fire, a fraction of what he’d seen Sasha dole out with her own SMG, but it still flooded Rhys’ body with adrenaline. He lifted one hand to his neck, letting the SMG hang from one hand as he pressed fingers to his pulse, almost curious as he felt the way his heart was pounding.

Jack’s eyes swept over Rhys, lingering over his mouth as he inhaled deeply, trying to calm down. With a wink, he stepped away, moving down the line to examine another gun. His focus was back on the selection, like Rhys didn’t even exist anymore.

That left Rhys holding the gun.

Jack wasn’t even looking at him, and Rhys knew that once something grabbed his attention, he stopped caring about anything around him. It wasn’t _worthy_ , or something. Or Jack was possibly bad at multitasking. Rhys was still trying to figure that out.

Holding the SMG with both hands again, just as Jack had shown him, he thought about it. Could that fix everything? One eridium-augmented gun. Would that be enough? Would taking out Handsome Jack put an end to Pandora’s problems? Was that better than what Rhys was doing?

He wanted to believe that cutting off the head would kill the serpent. He wanted to believe he _could_ do it, could pick up the gun, aim and fire.

He clicked the safety back on and set the gun down on the table, stepping back to put some distance between them. He hung back, watching Jack and hoping he wasn’t just a coward.

 

* * *

Even though he started at 0900 hours on the dot every weekday, Rhys only stayed as long as Jack wanted him. With only about two weeks under his belt so far, Rhys had worked everything from a three hour day to one that lasted all the way to his limit of 1900. It was up to Jack, really, and when he wanted to kick Rhys out.

Today was looking to be a longer day. After the e-tech demo, Jack had paced for almost twenty minutes, prowling around the office like a caged animal. It was one of those periods when Rhys kept as quiet as possible, not wanting to garner Jack’s attention, not even a sideways glance from him. Rhys didn’t know where the mood came from, why Jack went from his sort of baseline jovial mood to something positively stormy, but he knew to avoid it until it passed.

Eventually, Jack half threw himself into a chair, the anger seeming to leave his body with the force of his enormous sigh, head tipped back and mouth open like he was expelling it forcefully from his chest. His head fell forward, and he nodded once before spinning in his chair to look at Rhys. “C’mere, kitten.”

Rhys nodded, moving with more certainty as he got closer and saw the pillow on the floor at Jack’s feet. It hadn’t been asked for; the first day Jack had Rhys kneel, he’d done it without complaint, nothing more than a wince at the effect of the hard floor on his knees. The next day, though, he’d shown up and found Jack had added a few pillows to the space under his desk. They didn’t talk about it, no discussion at all, but Rhys was more than happy to make use of them.

Now, he settled down onto the largest one, first going down on one knee, then dropping to sit when Jack waved his hand, urging him down. Once he was seated, Jack pushed him into place under the desk, the pillow sliding smoothly over the floor.

Rhys palmed Jack’s thigh, squeezing and waiting for instruction. He was fine with a clandestine under-desk blowjob. There was nothing wrong with the classics.

Instead, Jack toed off his shoes and set them in Rhys’ lap. Which wasn’t what he expected, honestly. The blowjob would have been preferable to playing seat rest; the little alcove Rhys was curled up in wasn’t tall enough for him to sit up, and bending forward began to hurt his back.

Jack, above him, was working on something, paying Rhys very little mind at all. About the third time Rhys shifted around, though, trying to get comfortable, he sighed again and reached under to grab Rhys by the collar, pulling.

Rhys was guided forward until his cheek was resting on Jack’s lap. It was, after a moment of adjusting, a much more comfortable position. His weight rested just enough on Jack to ease the awkward curve of his spine.

Jack patted his head twice before his hands vanished again, back to work.

Okay. Rhys could work with this. He wasn’t sure just what _this_ was, but he could figure it out.

Waiting took more patience than anything. He wanted to move, to test the limits of whatever it was they were doing, to see if it was a game or a scene he was meant to play a role in. As time slipped by, Jack sometimes shifted his feet and every once in a while ran his nails through Rhys’ hair and over his scalp, but otherwise gave Rhys no indication of what he was supposed to be doing.

It was almost too pleasant, and suspicion fluttered around in Rhys’ stomach. There was no way this was it, that this was all Jack wanted right now.

Rhys lay still, breathing steadily as Jack traced the delicate curve of his ear, nail dragging against the grain of the hair just behind.

His eyes started to close, and he might’ve dozed for a while. His pillow was plush and soft even as he sat on it, and his body would have protested being curled up like that if it wasn’t for the way all his weight rested on Jack’s lap. He could have slept easily and wondered if he’d get in trouble if he gave in and had a midday nap.

He didn’t want to test it. From his position, he couldn’t see Jack’s face at all and had no read on him to go off.

Eventually, after what could have been ten minutes or two hours, Jack started a phone call, leaning back in his chair with his hands tapping incessantly on the arm rests.

“Emery, you got the extension you grovelled so nicely for, but you better have some goddamn news for me today or your buddy Xiao’s been instructed to escort you to the part of R&D where they do the _really_ nasty experiments on people.” Jack sucked in a breath through his teeth, mock-sympathetic. “It’s not gonna be fun, buddy, believe me.”

Rhys started to lift his head and instantly bumped it against the underside of the desk, grimacing in pain. Jack leaned back to shoot him a look, baffled and unsympathetic as Rhys rubbed the top of his head. “Really, pumpkin?”

Rhys held up his hands silently, apologetic, until Jack looked away again.

“If I wanted to read your notes,” Jack said, plainly not speaking to Rhys anymore, “then I would hack your login and read your damn project files. Sum it up for me, Emery, I don’t have all day.” He rolled his eyes. “Also, if you don’t quit stuttering, I’m going to have your tongue removed. Hurry it up.”

Rhys huffed a laugh. If there was any truly unreasonable request, it was that one. Everyone on Helios turned into a mess when Jack got hands-on or even existed in the same general area as they did. If there was anything that was shared across Helios, it was a healthy fear of Handsome Jack and his moods.

As he listened, Rhys wrapped one of his hands around Jack’s ankle. With his foot in Rhys’ lap, it was easy to tuck his hands under the pant leg and touch idly.

Then, less idly and with some real intent.

Rhys didn’t really _decide_ to elevate his touches into a massage, but there really wasn’t much for him to do and it was just easy; he framed Jack’s ankle with his hands, pressing his thumbs in and dragging his hands up, following the tendon to where it met the muscle just below the knee, then repeated the motion again with a little more pressure.

Jack’s foot flexed, but otherwise he didn’t react in any way.

Rhys kept going, working at his ankle for a while, tracing a circle around the hard knot of bone, distracted at how vulnerable that skin felt under his fingers. Then, he settled over the tough muscle above, kneading and dragging pressure down, mirroring the upward path of before over and over. He could feel some tension coming slowly loose under his hands, coaxing it out of Jack’s body gradually.

“You’ve narrowed down the potential locations?” Jack asked, presumably, Emery. “Lay ‘em on me.” There was a deeper note to his voice now, something a little throatier, genuinely pretty nice to listen to, and Rhys smiled to himself, continuing his massage diligently. He wondered if he could bill this Emery guy for his time, seeing as Jack’s annoyance was palpably lessening as he worked.

“Remote locations aren’t viable for mining right now, better to take over operation and expand rapidly. Build off the existing infrastructure.”

Rhys almost stopped, hands slowing for a moment. Mining. New mining operations. He bit his lip, trying to listen, wishing he could hear the other side of the call as well. Hyperion’s mining operations were…. they weren’t good. Knowing where one might turn up would be useful information.

Jack took his moment of stillness and used it to swap his legs, moving the one Rhys had been pouring attention into out of his lap and nudging Rhys’ thigh with the other one.

He got back to it, starting the process over again from the beginning as he strained his hearing, trying to catch _anything_ useful. It seemed early on, though, just a talk about _potential_ locations, nothing concrete. But Jack was pushing Emery to “pick a damn location and run it by the other departments already, for god’s sake, are you eggheads so socially awkward you can’t talk about your damn projects with your coworkers, am I going to have to schedule some team building days, because I will, I will set up the trust fall exercise, we can have it right over one of the slag tanks.”

So Rhys assumed it was coming soon.

Thank god, because if he didn’t get something useful for Fiona soon, she was going to start yelling at him again. The fact that Rhys was settling into his new job, was getting _used_ to being Jack’s office pet, was not something she was happy about, even though they knew it was inevitable and even though it in some ways felt safer than his other work around Helios.

Here, he was with Handsome Jack, self-made dictator of Pandora whose moods ranged from sarcastic jocularity to outright murder. Rhys should not have felt _safe_. And yet, when he’d flat-out told Jack his intentions, that he was looking for company secrets that were useful, Jack had responded by pulling him in closer.

Rhys worried, more than anything, that he might’ve been getting complacent.

He probably was. After he finished working on Jack’s legs, he was pulled in closer, a hand tight in his hair. He slid in, sitting between Jack’s legs. When pushed, he leaned down, resting his head against Jack’s thigh. His hand curled up under that leg and up so he could hook his fingers in the pocket of Jack’s pants, anchoring there.

Seeming satisfied, Jack relaxed his grip on Rhys’ hair, stroking through it a few times as he finished his call. It felt entirely too good, especially as Jack pressed his other leg firmly against Rhys’ back, squeezing him just slightly. Rhys could barely keep his eyes open, closed in and warm, his arms a little sore from the impromptu massage. He relaxed like that, sighing softly against Jack’s leg.

Blunt nails dragged through his hair and down the back of his neck, nudging the collar in slow circles. “Good kitten,” Jack said quietly, and Rhys hummed, content, and shut his eyes.

 

* * *

That night, Rhys did the right thing and tried to hail Fiona and Sasha. He’d been very diligent about his updates, even when they were short and lacked any new information. It was still a comfort to Fiona, and each day the lines around her eyes seemed to lessen a bit more. He didn’t think the spectre of fear for Rhys’ life would leave her, not for the duration of his… tenure with Jack, but he was willing to do anything he could do to make things better for her.

Tonight, though, he tried to engage a call three times before throwing in the towel. It happened sometimes; Fiona and Sasha had their own cons and jobs back home to do, and sometimes they just weren’t around. Missing one check-in wasn’t a big deal.

He didn’t have anything else on, but he’d not eaten, so Rhys left the apartment as quickly as he came and went to go talk to the other woman in his life.

Yvette frowned at him when she opened her door, probably because he’d forgotten to call ahead, but her expression went positively sunny when Rhys held up the take away boxes he’d brought as a peace offering. “What’d you get me?” she asked, her teeth gleaming and white between red-brown lipstick, faded from the day but still lingering.

“Sushi and fresh edamame with the chunky salt.” He bounced on his toes. “So, can I come in?”

Yvette rolled her eyes and stepped back, holding the door open. “I accept your bribe. Come on, I’ll grab plates.”

There was a loveseat in her living space, and they both settled onto it. Rhys took off his shoes and stretched out across the cushions, his legs unfolding long in front of him. Yvette, in return, laid her legs across his, right over his lap, sitting facing him.

He watched her for a moment as she enjoyed the bowl of edamame, how she bit down on the bean pods and pulled them through her teeth, popping each bean out. He grabbed a few himself, just to be social; he’d gotten them for her, really.

“Okay,” she said after working her way through half the bowl. “What’s bothering you?”

“Bothering, what? Why would anything be bothering me?”

Yvette dug her heel into Rhys’ side. “Should I make a _list_?”

“Please don’t, I don’t need the reminder.” He blew out a long sigh. He felt simultaneously grateful that she was willing to listen to him vent and guilty for needing it so badly. “There’s just. A lot happening. I think I miss when things were simpler.”

“Back on Pandora?”

“Not even. Like, two weeks ago, before I accidentally blew the president of Hyperion in a cleaning closet and my life went off the rails.”

She snorted and snapped her chopsticks apart, dividing them perfectly in two. “You live a charmed life.”

“Trade you,” Rhys offered with a small smile.

“Jobs? Lives?” She held up her plate. “Sushi rolls?”

“Any? All of the above?” Rhys rested his head back against the loveseat, snapping his chopsticks and trying to remember the right way to hold them. “Wanna go halves on the rolls?”

“Sure.” She leaned forward and quickly moved each piece between their plates until they each had half of the others’. “Rhys, goodness sake, settle the bottom chopstick, then hold the other with your index finger, then pinch.”

“Right, right, got it,” Rhys said, nodding along. “So are you going to ask…?”

“Only if you want me to,” Yvette said as she started eating.

“Well, I only want you to if _you_ want--” She clicked her sticks at him, making him stop and smile.

“Any fun leads from the house that Jack built?” Yvette asked, settling back and delicately dipping a piece of salmon in eel sauce.

That was a safe question, and Rhys didn’t know if he appreciated it. Part of him wanted Yvette to rake him over the coals for the position he was in. As if Fiona and Vaughn’s concern wasn’t enough, he wanted _more_ , like a bruise he wanted someone to press their fingers down against. Yvette had long, neat nails. It’d hurt nicely.

But that wasn’t what she’d done, so he just answered, “Mining projects. Hyperion’s going to open a new mining operation on Pandora. They haven’t picked a location yet, but they _are_ going to try to build it on an existing settlement. Might still be people there…”

“Will that be useful information? Once you have it.”

Rhys thought about it for a moment. “I don’t… I’m not sure. I don’t know if we can make money off it, but… people need to know.”

“About mining operations?”

“You… Hang on.” He took a moment to eat, letting the conversation sit for a moment. Unlike Vaughn, who would have immediately pushed, impatient, Yvette only nodded, waited. She another bite of sushi that she enjoyed so much she danced in place, humming happily, making Rhys smile. With his new paycheck, he could afford to treat her more often. He liked that.

“So, mining on Pandora,” Rhys said after gathering his thoughts. “It’s not information that Fiona can really… sell or-- or use to earn us anything, not in any way I can think of? But you-- you probably don’t know this, they don’t _talk_ about it up here,” his voice faltered for a moment, and Yvette was silent as she waited.

“Hyperion’s mining operations just… ruin settlements. More than, they…” He didn’t know how to say it without making it seem too dramatic, and he wanted her to understand. “When they set their sights on an area, that place is going to be a ghost town in three months. There’s the pollution from it, which ruins even the best terraforming efforts. The wildlife gets angry, and they _don’t_ need the help, they’re aggressive enough already. The… skull shivers, they wiped out whole towns.” He shook his head slowly. “And Hyperion will pretend to be coming in to revitalize the local economy, or _whatever_ the damn company line is. But mining is dangerous and if people don’t play ball with Hyperion, they just send down bots to do it and drive out the community. People try to get out if they can, but if they can’t…”

He trailed off, letting that hang in the air. Yvette was looking at him strangely, like she was trying to think of what to say.

Rhys got it. He had lived on Helios long enough to understand how isolated Hyperion’s employees tended to be from the effects the corporation had on Pandora. It wasn’t their _fault_ but sometimes the divide between what was really going on and what people like Yvette knew about it was a chasm Rhys didn’t know how to traverse.

“Point being,” Rhys said, looking down at his plate and clumsily picking up another piece of sushi. “If I can get the location beforehand, we can warn them, and they’ll be ready at least. That’ll be a huge help.”

Yvette reached out and squeezed his knee, he thumb rubbing soothing circles. She didn’t say anything about it, maybe because it was still too foreign to her, but the comfort was appreciated.

“Must be tough,” she said, “when you’re working for the guy who makes all that happen. Are you okay?”

“I shouldn’t be,” Rhys said.

“Ah,” she said, smiling faintly.

“What does that mean?”

“What did _you_ mean?”

“I don’t… know?” Rhys shrugged one shoulder. “It’s Handsome Jack. It’s the guy who’s systematically ruining my planet. And…” His appetite flagging, Rhys leaned over the set down his plate on the coffee table next to them. “It’s difficult.”

“What’d he have you doing today?”

“Teaching me to shoot a gun, apparently on a whim, and then massages. It was easy.” Rhys dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s always easy.”

Her expression cleared. “Oh.”

“Oh?” He sighed. “Yvette, come _on_.”

She smiled and patted his leg. “You know, _someone_ once told me it’s important to enjoy your work. Sounds like you are.”

That was the thing. He lay his head back, closing his eyes as that sank in. He _was_ enjoying it. He was good at it, and Jack was intimidating but not really _frightening_ like he had been before. He kept Rhys on his toes but Rhys _liked_ that.

“This is different,” he murmured.

“Does it have to be?”

“It’s Handsome Jack, of course it does.”

Yvette only nodded, sympathetic in a way that meant she didn’t know how to relate, how to make it better. There was something nice about the honesty, really; she didn’t try to assuage his worries. He appreciated that, just being able to say the words to someone without getting empty platitudes in return.

There were other words, though. What he didn’t say, what was on the tip of his tongue, that he’d had the chance to kill Jack today. That he hadn’t. That he had no idea what he was doing anymore.

There were limits. He couldn’t make himself tell Yvette that part of it. He couldn’t dump it on her lap.

The words stayed bottled up inside him, tense and fizzing like they were waiting to burst. He ignored them as he helped clear the plates and accepted a kiss on his cheek, bidding Yvette goodnight and walking back to his apartment to sleep, to wake up and do it all again.

God, he hoped it was all worth it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for some impact play

Rhys had been working as Jack’s personal office toy for a month and change now, and without fail Jack had beaten him to the office every day. More than that, he was always elbow-deep in one of his projects before Rhys even showed his face. There was still no evidence that Jack ever actually _slept_.

Today, walking in, he found the lights dimmer, the desk empty, and no sign of Jack. At first, Rhys checked his ECHO HUD, just to make sure that he hadn’t accidentally stumbled in on a weekend or something. It wasn’t out of the question for him; the days sometimes slid into each other in a strange blur of time. His days all started with the same routine and ended with him tired, needing a solid eight hours of sleep before he could think of taking on Jack again in the morning. He wouldn’t be shocked to have lost track of time.

But no, Jack just wasn’t around, and the office somehow was much more intimidating without him. There was a measure of comfort in knowing where Jack was.

Rhys lingered in the doorway, his jacket off but in his hands. He wasn’t sure if he still needed to take off his clothes. It seemed weird without Jack around to enjoy it.

Because he had to, because there was a voice that sounded like Fiona’s in the back of his head _demanding_ it, Rhys checked Jack’s computer. Unfortunately, the monitor was dark and the lights on the computer itself was blinking sleepily in stand-by mode. Rhys worried that wake it up would be a bad move. Sure, it could potentially hold every secret that Hyperion had… but Jack might know. It was too soon to bury his lead like that.

Leaving it alone, Rhys walked back down the stairs, figuring he could just go home.

Before he could reach the elevator, the doors opened, and Jack stalked out of it right into Rhys’ path. He looked… He looked like the Handsome Jack that Pandorans talked about. The slope of his arms was heavy, his hands fisted, and there was-- blood, a smear of it right across his cheek, bright and vivid against the paler set of his mask.

Rhys froze in place, as though that would help. Jack halted just in front of him, looking him up and down with a lifted eyebrow. “Going somewhere, kitten?”

He couldn’t help the heat that curled in him at the petname. Rhys managed just a half step backward, nervous about how Jack was advancing on him. “You-- you weren’t here, I thought--”

Jack’s fingers hooked in the collar and pulled Rhys in close, so harsh he stumbled and nearly fell, landing against Jack’s chest. An arm around his shoulders kept him upright, braced but ready to fall as soon as Jack let him go. He could feel the grin against his cheek as Jack said, “You thought you could skip out on me, Rhysie?”

He didn’t have a response to that, too caught up in how unbalanced he felt, how the splatters of blood on Jack kept drawing his attention. Impatient, Jack began pulling off Rhys’ clothes, his fingers pressing hard into every inch of skin he exposed. Rhys groaned in the back of his throat, trying to help, shifting so Jack was less likely to tear anything as he yanked it off and cast it all onto the floor. “Jack…”

“And I was going to give you such a nice gift for being so obedient. Now, you’re going to have to earn it.” He finished stripping Rhys down, letting him go just long enough to bend and lift Rhys up and over his shoulder. Rhys yelped, hands scrambling to fist in the back of Jack’s coat, holding on as he left the ground.

“Oh my god, what are you-- _ow_!” Rhys flinched as Jack’s hand came down hard on his ass. He tried to move away, but by design or accident, Jack’s hold on him involved his hand on Rhys’ ass, and as he moved he got another smack. “Okay, okay, ow!”

“Simmer down, pumpkin, or I’ll really give you something to cry about.”

It was hard; being carried up the steps made Rhys tense up, worried that he’d fall right onto his face. Jack didn’t drop him, though, until he was tossing Rhys down onto his desk. There would be bruises left from the careless treatment, the force of it, Rhys was certain. Still, he kept quiet, looking up at Jack with trepidation.

Jack was breathing hard, as he had been from the moment he walked in. There was something almost feral to him, the brightness of his eyes as he stood over Rhys and just watched him for a moment. The whole desk shook as he bent down, his hands bracketing Rhys’ shoulders as he leaned in close.

Instinctively, Rhys lifted his hand like he wanted to push Jack away. Jack watched him, bemused, waiting to see what Rhys would do, looking ready to bite if Rhys picked the wrong thing.

Rhys had no idea what the _right_ thing was, not when Jack was like this. For once, his intuition was giving him _nothing_ , and Rhys knew he was hesitating too long.

 _Do something_ , he told himself, and reached up, his metal arm close to Jack’s face. Rhys dragged his thumb across the flecked splatter of blood. With his metal fingers, it just smeared up, following the line of Jack’s cheekbone, accentuating it further.

Jack’s face contorted into something _furious_ , his hand closing hard on Rhys’ wrist. He didn’t feel it, but the protesting noise of metal grinding from Jack’s grip was painful to hear, though not as much as the sound of his arm being slammed back against the desk.

Rhys opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came to mind. He just hoped he hadn’t screwed up. For the first time in a long while, he felt something like fear in his chest. He’d gotten too comfortable. Jack could still kill him on a whim and a bad day.

And the blood indicated he wasn’t having a _great_ day. Or, so Rhys assumed. With Jack, it was hard to be sure.

 _Marigold_ was on the tip of his tongue, held back only by his teeth clenched together.

Jack was breathing hard, like he’d been running, and his eyes followed the length of Rhys’ arm up his body to the shoulder joint where the metal and circuitry was anchored. Something changed in Jack’s face in the span of an eyeblink, like a switch being flipped, and he jerked away almost violently. Reaching down, he yanked one of the drawers of his desk open, pulling something out and holding it up for Rhys to see.

Rhys inhaled sharply, then nodded once.

The unlock tool slid into his arm at the junction, a solid three inches of metal eased into his body in a way that made Rhys’ stomach twist. Once it settled, Jack pressed the button on the tool and it spun, opening the connection between Rhys’ arm and its mount. The mechanisms came loose in stages as everything unhooked and released, and soon the arm fell aside on the desk.

“The-- the wires, disconnect them at the shoulder,” Rhys said.

Jack nudged his arm out of the way before finding the control lines that still stretched between Rhys’ arm and his body. Like he always did when he took off his arm, Rhys flexed his fingers anxiously, watching them move until the wires were unplugged and the entire arm went inert.

It was set aside, on the edge of the desk, and Rhys tried not to stare at it, nervous to be separated. Jack caught his chin, turned his face back to look at him. “What’re you looking at, Rhysie?” he asked, honey sweet and poisonous.

Rhys swallowed, wondering if Jack could feel the way his heart was racing. “Just you, Jack,” he murmured.

“Good answer,” Jack crooned, smiling at him. “How’s about we do a little stress testing?”

A shiver of worry and heat ran down Rhys’ spine, leaving him confused. There weren’t a lot of things more annoying than the battle between the hot curl of want in his chest and the lingering fear. He’d appreciate it if his body would figure out if it wanted him to run the hell away or roll over and ask for more. It’d make his life easier.

Either way, Jack drew away to sort through one of his desk drawers again, setting some things out next to Rhys. When Rhys twisted on the desk to see, he got another smack for his trouble, high on his thigh.

He watched Jack through half-lidded eyes, thinking about the coil of tension in Jack’s body, and deliberately lifted his head to look down his body again.

Jack’s reaction was immediate, grabbing Rhys with bruising hands on his hips and flipping him over onto his belly, hitting the softest skin of his ass with an open hand that made a tremendous _crack_ sound. The noise made Rhys jump and tense more than the actual impact.

“You’re trying my damn patience,” Jack said, low and dangerous.

Bracing on one arm was hard, but Rhys managed, lifting up enough so he could let his head hang down. “M’sorry, Jack, please,” he said, not meaning to slur but unable to get control of his tongue. He was in a way relieved that he was flipped now; Jack couldn’t see him getting hard and so Rhys didn’t have to come up with any excuses to himself.

God, he was in deep.

“I know you are, babe. I know you can do better. You _are_ going to do better, aren’t you?” As he spoke, quiet but demanding, his fingers slid slick and warm against Rhys, nudging in just a tiny bit. Rhys gasped and let his forehead hit the desk, teeth grit. Jack chuckled. “Yeah, you are.”

The worst part was that it was cold. The air in the room, the desk under him, everything felt cold enough to make him shiver as his body went hot. He wanted-- pressure, heat, Jack over him would be _so good_ , but Jack only touched him where his fingers were sinking wetly into him and the one palm pressed to the small of Rhys’ back. His hand burned, and Rhys tried to push back against it, whining when Jack held him in place.

“Rhysie, you are so _easy_ ,” Jack told him, making Rhys duck his head, ears going red. “You are, though, it’d be embarrassing if you weren’t doing it for me. S’funny to think about.” His voice was almost conspicuously smooth and even as Rhys _shook_. “You’ve probably fucked a _lot_ of people. You like this for all of ‘em or am I special, kitten?”

Hearing Jack give voice to one of the question that’d been plaguing Rhys for weeks now was hard. He pressed his face against the desk more, like he could hide, because, god, it was never like this. Even on the occasional long con, he’d never done this, never felt like he was the one at the mark’s mercy, never let so much control slip out of his fingers.

Jack kept going, to his delight and dismay both. “You’re never gonna say it. It’s fine, I know.” His fingers twisted, making Rhys gasp and jerk as his muscles pulled tight everywhere, clutching at Jack’s fingers. “Mmhm. I’m different. I know that because if you were like this for everyone, kitten, they’d never let you get away.”

Jack’s fingers slipped away, and Rhys felt himself slump down, boneless for a moment. Then, instead of fingers, something else pressed against his ass, circling for a moment before catching against where he was worked wet and open, pushing in. Whatever it was, the toy was just wide enough to make Rhys feel it, and smooth, sinking in even more easily than Jack’s fingers had.

“Anyone else saw you like this, they’d keep you.” Jack’s other hand cupped the back of Rhys’ neck, fingers under his collar, enough to pull it tight against his throat. “Probably chain you to the bed and never let you go. Lucky you, I’m generous.”

Rhys didn’t have a single word in him, only indistinct noises as the toy pushed him open wide, making his legs jerk, toes curling before it tapered sharply. Some kind of plug, something that felt just barely too big, just a little overwhelming. WIth his face against the desk, Rhys could only watch the way it fogged with every panted breath and choked noise he made.

“I don’t need chains,” Jack continued, almost conversationally, as he rubbed the small of Rhys’ back in small circles. “I’ve got something much better in mind. Should be getting here today, actually.”

The implication of more to come made Rhys’s fingers clench. He didn’t know how much more he could _take_.

Which was, of course, when Jack turned the plug on, sending vibrations humming through Rhys’ body, so sharp and vivid he yelled, hitting the desk with his fist as everything in him just came _alight_. He could hear Jack laughing, low and deep from his throat, but it was lost in the rush of shivering sensation that was forced into him, so much it stole his breath.

It made him mindless, eyes pinching shut and his toes scrambling to catch on the floor under him. Jack urged him up higher on the desk as he did, though. Rhys also screamed at him in frustration, forgetting why it was such a bad idea, the blood flecked on Jack and the animal gleam of his eyes barely mattering.

It all died in his chest as Jack lay down across him. He was solid and heavy, pushing the air out of Rhys’ lungs all at once. “You’re so good at this, babe,” he said almost sweetly in Rhys’ ear. “Like you were made for it.”

He could feel Jack’s dick against him, knew he must’ve unbuckled and pushed his pants down just enough to do this, to slide against Rhys where the plug was vibrating away, constant and maddening. Jack got one hand on Rhys’ ass, the other working under him, across his chest to grip the shoulder, the open one where his arm used to be. Anchored close, Jack rutted against him, and Rhys felt his eyes stinging.

It was too much, the way Jack was driving the toy just a bit deeper into him with every cant of his hips, and _god_ , he wanted Jack to fuck him. He wanted it so bad it made him sob and tense all over, each breath wrenched out of him. If he still had the words, if speech wasn’t completely beyond him, he’d probably beg for it and hope Jack would be kind.

As it was, that was so out of his grasp. Everything twisted too tight, too good in him until he came, eyes rolling up as it snapped through him like a piano wire breaking, sharp and painful. Jack’s teeth were at his ear and he might’ve been saying something, something brutal and perfect, but Rhys didn’t hear a damn word of it as he slumped down, spent.

He had never bought the idea of coming so hard he’d pass out, but there were a few minutes afterward when he just had no idea what was happening. And it didn’t matter. He was perfectly happy to lay still, to let Jack do what he wished with him as he recovered from definitely-not-blacking-out because that wasn’t a _thing_ as far as Rhys was concerned.

When he was finally able to move again, he was on his back instead; Jack must’ve turned him over again. Every muscle in his body felt sore, probably from tensing too hard as he came. More than anything, he wanted to excuse himself to the attached bathroom and take a five year long hot bath. That seemed like a decent recovery plan to him.

Letting his head loll, Rhys opened his eyes and let them lazily track around until he found Jack.

Jack looked better. Or, he still had some red on him, which was disconcerting to see, especially when he didn’t seem to be aware of it at all. He was sitting on the edge of the desk with Rhys’ arm across his lap. That would have been bad for Rhys, who didn’t like people touching his arm, always afraid something would happen, something that was too difficult for him to fix.

Jack, though, kept one hand cradled under the chassis, grip firm to keep it from moving. He was playing with the articulation of the hand, bending the wrist to its limits, then stopping and bending another way. He tested the elbow, the fingers, the way the palm’s pieces moved together to allow the hand to curve like a flesh and bone hand, mimicking muscles and tendons.

“This is decent work,” Jack murmured. “Not Hyperion, though.” He turned the arm over and traced the power gauge with a finger. “Updated Atlas?”

Rhys nodded. He could have tried lying, but saw no reason to. Once again, the truth was easier. “I got it painted Hyperion colors when I came here. Figured marching around with a rival brand on me was a bad move.”

Jack snorted. “Atlas isn’t anyone’s fucking rival anymore, are they?” There was a clear smugness in his tone. “Unless they’re in the running for an award for most defunct corporation in the seven galaxies.” He set the arm aside and finally looked at Rhys. “So, how about that eye? Is that Hyperion or not?” Before Rhys could say anything, Jack swatted his hand through the air. “Nevermind, let me look.”

He stood and circled the desk until he was standing above Rhys, leaning down. This way, he was upside down to Rhys. His hands framed Rhys’ face, almost gentle but firm as he turned Rhys’ head to the side and leaned in close. “Eyes open, come on.”

It was hard with someone so close, but Rhys managed, opening both eyes wide and letting Jack peer down at him. Jack’s eyebrows lifted. “DAHL? Huh. Getting a little outdated there, cupcake, especially since DAHL’s on their way out of the game, no more software upgrades. You should switch to Hyperion.”

Rhys frowned. “Wait, how did you know it’s a DAHL eye?”

Jack held up a finger. “One, DAHL is the only other company that came close to those advancements in ECHOeye implants.” He held up another finger. “And two, that one is lacking Hyperion branding.”

“You brand your _eye implants_?” Rhys had looked at his cybernetic eye enough times over the years and had never noticed anything like that. “How?”

Pointing to his own eye, the blue one, Jack said, “H or J etched into the filigree on the sclera.”

The H made sense, but, “Why a J?” Rhys asked. Jack just grinned broadly, and Rhys huffed out a laugh as he got it. “ _Wow_.”

“Hey, you buy Hyperion, I own you.” He shrugged and circled around the desk to sit in his chair, between Rhys’ legs. He patted one, urging Rhys to sit up. “That’s how it works.”

It took a lot of effort to move, but Rhys managed. “Is it? Um. Okay. I… don’t think I’m coherent enough to argue with you.”

“I could get used to that,” Jack said. “Maybe I should fuck your brains out more often.”

Rhys flushed all over, remembering all at once how much he’d _wanted_ that, how desperately he’d wanted to ask for that. God. “Yeah, well, I don’t think you’d like me around so much if I didn’t mouth off sometimes.”

“There you go again, thinking I pay you for being an insubordinate shit.” He tucked a finger in Rhys’ collar, tugging it once before letting go. “Don’t get cocky.”

 

* * *

 

Jack made him clean up the desk before anything else, because, “You made the mess, pumpkin.” When Rhys rolled his eyes, he earned another smack on his ass, hard enough to sting and urge him to hurry up, wiping everything down before he was allowed to retreat to the bathroom and clean up.

Jack mentioned he had a video conference to do, so Rhys indulged in that bath he’d been thinking about. The tub was some kind of metal that hummed when it was full and kept the water warm for a ridiculously long time. Rhys was a big fan.

He couldn’t stay in there forever, unfortunately. When he was able to stand again without his knees threatening to buckle under him, Rhys dried off. There were no clothes around for him and he wasn’t actually supposed to have any, so he took care to poke his head out of the on suite, making sure Jack’s call was over.

Looking across the office at him, Rhys frowned and ducked back in to grab a hand towel, wetting it in the sink before stepping out and walking back up to Jack’s desk. “You did your video thing like that?” he asked as he grew close.

“Hm? Yeah, why?” Jack asked, distracted by something, a box in front of him that he was opening up.

“C’mere,” Rhys said. He didn’t touch Jack, just tapped on the arm of his chair, knowing better than to turn him. Jack spun to face Rhys, his eyebrow lifted high. Moving slowly, Rhys rested one hand on his chin before swiping the damp cloth over Jack’s face. The blood was dry and came off easily, off the curve of Jack’s jaw and the side of his neck. After wiping it away, Rhys held up the cloth for Jack to see the blotted red stain.

“Ah, forgot about that. You’re a good distraction from incompetent shitheads who almost blew up a wing of R&D. Congrats.” Suddenly, Jack smirked. “Want your reward?”

“Uh.” Rhys had no idea, only vaguely remembered a mention from before. “Sure?”

When Jack patted the desk, Rhys sat on it. Jack stood and finished opening the box he’d been fiddling with, no bigger than a jewelry box. Inside was a small golden disk that Jack tapped out onto his palm, holding it up between his thumb and index finger, gaze critical on it.

It was a dataport peripheral. Rhys recognized the attachments on one side. Without meaning to, he leaned back nervously. “Um.”

“I said I was getting you a better collar. Relax, babe,” Jack said, putting his other hand on Rhys’ shoulder, a heavy, steadying weight. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to reassure him or hold him still. “This one doesn’t go home with you. Only wear it when you’re on the clock. Shit’s expensive and the software’s delicate.”

To his relief, Jack didn’t plug it into Rhys’ temple port. Instead, he clicked it into the side of his monitor into the port there. “Or, it will be delicate once I reformat it and install the new, actually useful code.”

Rhys leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of the screen. Jack tilted the monitor out of his line of sight. “If I see your eye light up, I’ll whip you.”

Sighing, Rhys settled back on his hand. Just the one, He turned around and found where Jack had left his arm. Picking it up, he started putting it back on, connecting the wires and resetting it into the junction. “Do you _own_ a whip?” he asked idly.

“Oh yeah. Somewhere.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Didn’t say it’d be an immediate whipping. I have a busy schedule.”

Busy enough he was configuring a peripheral to plug into Rhys’ head. But Rhys knew better than to say that aloud. He sat quietly, waiting, watching Jack’s face as he frowned at the screen more and more.

“Son of a bitch,” Jack grumbled. “This isn’t going to work. I’m going to have to rewrite at least half these processes from scratch, and at that point, shit, might as well just write new firmware and software myself.”

“You’re going to write a program that you want to run on my cybernetics,” Rhys said, an inquiring lilt to his tone.

“Several programs, but yeah, that’s the plan.”

“Okay.” Rhys had been through a lot since he’d picked up this job, so he wished he could say he’d done stranger things, but… no, this was genuinely pretty weird. “Do you… write programs a lot?”

He didn’t mean anything by it, but Jack went still for just a second. The smooth sound of his typing cut off, just long enough for Rhys to notice the pause, before continuing on steadily. “Something like that,” Jack said, quieter, then back to his usual candor: “Look, I know what I’m doing, ain’t gonna hurt you. Well. Not with a program.”

“That’s a relief. I guess.”

Jack was still glaring at the monitor. “Shit, that’s what’s wrong.” He pulled the peripheral out and turned it over in his hands carefully. “Someone left the service lock on this preventing firmware access. Who’s the fucking smartass who didn’t requisition a jailbroken device?” He sighed and palmed the little disk. “One sec, I need to grab a fucking soldering iron.” He left Rhys there at the desk, walking down the stairs and to one of the doors set subtly into the walls of the office.

Rhys turned to watch him go. “What was that about your schedule?”

“You mouth off again, I’m gonna forgo the whip. I have a belt that’ll do the job,” Jack replied cheerfully before ducking out.

The moment he was gone, Rhys settled his eye on the monitor and let his implant come on. Jack hadn’t even signed out before leaving. He’d be back soon. Rhys flicked through the applications open on the screen, bringing each one up quickly, saving a copy of everything, and storing it away in his internal storage to look at it later.

He didn’t have time, didn’t bother reading anything, just scanned, copied, and put everything back to the way it was before letting his ECHOeye go quiet again and looking out the window.

Pandora was beautiful from here, Rhys thought, and smiled to himself as he waited.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for altered states, particularly subspace

Over the weekend, Rhys reported back his findings to Fiona. His fast snapshots of Jack’s computer had come up with a lot of useless junk, a glimpse at what Jack’s schedule looked like, and a few pieces of sensitive information.

The schedule was pretty much unreadable, but interesting nonetheless. Jack organized things strangely, not setting events by their time, but using blocks with vague organizational points stacked together in a sequential order. Reading it was like looking at a very colorful brick wall and was about as impenetrable. One block said _Meet with two idiots in biomedical_ , and sat on top of another, larger block with no text on it. Under that was another shorter one, bright green, marked _Moonshot test, heavier? sling? boom x 6?_ which probably made sense to Jack if no one else. What Rhys couldn’t figure out was how Jack knew how much time to spend on each task. Maybe he was missing something.

But what actually caught his eye and what he sent down to Pandora before his next ECHO call were mining expansion details. Hyperion was constantly looking for new places to dig in their talons, new sites that had enough eridium close to the surface to justify a new operation. Any information on where they were setting their sights was good information.

Fiona agreed. When Rhys sat down in front of the communicator, she wasted no time getting into it. “The coordinates you gave me-- they’re not Hollow Point, don’t worry, but they _do_ match a settlement on the other side of the Dust. It’s called Ventura Depths.” She clasped her hands in front of her, almost businesslike. “I know a gun launderer out there and asked her if she’d noticed anything strange around town. She said there’s been a lot of strange foot traffic, lots of fancy out of town folks.”

“Hyperion scouts,” Rhys said, resignation in his voice.

It was hard to be hopeful about anything when things had already advanced that far along. The Hyperion modus operandus was well-known; they surveyed for eridium deposits, located the closest settlement that they could build upon, sent scouts in to get a feel for the area, and then smashed in with bots and machines and guns. Telling a settlement that they had a case of the Hyperion scouts was akin to a diagnosis of something late-stage and lethal.

Sasha was leaning on the back of Fiona’s chair, wearing a distinctly unimpressed expression. “Okay, that’s awful, obviously but… this is Ventura Depths we’re talking about. Everyone in that canyon is kind of an asshole. It’s a full-on bandit town and villainous hive.”

Fiona shook her head and gestured to the room around her and to the city beyond. “Well, so is Hollow Point.”

“That’s different,” Sasha insisted, smirking. “Hollow Point is _our_ hive.”

The humor in Sasha’s eyes felt weird to Rhys. He frowned, unable to connect with it, not with the death sentence of yet another Pandoran town sitting in his lap. “They should be warned anyway,” he said. “From what I got, it looks like Hyperion’s keeping the location top secret until they’re ready to hit it. The fact it’s in that canyon is trouble enough for them, they’re gonna want to hit it fast and hard.”

Fiona looked grim. “Is there a point though?” she asked quietly, like she didn’t want to even voice her thoughts. “There’s no way Ventura can fend off Hyperion, even if they knew beforehand.”

The quiet that followed was dark and uncomfortable. Rhys met Fiona’s gaze over the communicator. The lines around her eyes were more obvious now than he’d ever seen them. More than anything, he wished he was back home and able to put an arm around her shoulders.

Sasha’s smile was a sunbeam through the grim shroud that had settled over them all. “You’re right. Ventura’s pretty much screwed. _But_ ,” she said with a frisson of glee shivering through her voice, “if they knew what was coming and when... “ She looked at Rhys, grin widening. “Hyperion is betting on no resistance, on a target they can beat down quick and dirty, right?” She spread her hands apart. “ _So_ it would just take a little bit of planning and preparation for the locals to take out the first strike team from Hyperion.”

“Hyperion will just send another group,” Rhys pointed out.

Fiona, though, was brightening. “Yeah, sure, but the locals can be gone before backup shows up. They’ll be able to take down some bots, haul off the moonshot caches, and anything else they can secure fast enough.”

“Someone comes at you with a punch, you knock ‘em in the ribs and run while they’re down,” Sasha said, clapping her hands and rubbing her palms together.

Nodding along, Fiona said, “It won’t mean much to Hyperion in the long run, but that sort of haul could really help down here.”

“Can you pass on the information then?” Rhys asked. He couldn’t help being hesitant. It all seemed risky but… it wasn’t Fiona and Sasha out there taking the risk, so he could live with that. He didn’t envy the people in the path of a Hyperion first strike team, though.

Fiona drummed her fingers on the table, chewing her lip. “I’ll have to find someone who can organize this and evacuate people without alerting Hyperion. The last thing we want is for them to know we’re planning this.”

Sasha let out a disgusted noise. “So they might lose a few bots and some gear. They’ll still take Ventura, and won’t even notice the losses. It’s ridiculous, how he can just hemorrhage money and resources, and it probably doesn’t even faze him. What kind of person is that?”

It took too long for Rhys to realize that Sasha was talking to him, her questions aimed right at him, her eyes narrow on his face. He stiffened, because there wasn’t much more terrifying than Sasha when her gaze went a little squinty and a lot scary. “Um.”

And besides, even if his tongue didn’t feel clumsy and useless in his mouth, what was he supposed to say? He couldn’t say any of the things that came to mind; she wanted to hear something he didn’t have. Anecdotes about how Jack’s taste in food was terrible for a trillionaire, that the man wore jogging shoes and a sweater all day rather than the fine suits of his employees, that the most conspicuous expense on his part was the gorgeous view from his office-- none of those would work, even if they were the first things to come to his mind.

It’d sound like he was defending Jack. That wasn’t the point. But Sasha had that hair-trigger and Rhys didn’t know if he could handle it, feeling oddly raw all over.

Fiona must’ve read something off him, because she put on her Big Sister voice and asked Sasha quietly, “Can I have a moment with Rhys, Sash?”

Sasha frowned but nodded. “Sure… Rhys, see you next check-in. Good job not dying, keep it up.”

Rhys huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, Sasha.”

When she stepped out of view, Rhys opened his mouth to defend himself or defuse the situation, something, but Fiona held up a finger, quelling him. She waited until there was the distant sound of a door closing before fixing him with a _look_. It was sympathetic and worried, and Rhys _hated_ to see it.

“Look,” she said, slowly, taking care with her words before they passed her lips. “Sasha isn’t going to understand it, but I do. I get it.” She leaned in, like being closer to the communicator was the same as being closer to Rhys. “But you _need_ to be careful, Rhys. Don’t let him get too many hooks in you. Not over this.”

He didn’t tell her about the new toy Jack wanted to run on his cybernetics, but it was on the tip of his tongue. She’d worry more, and it wasn’t like she could _do_ anything about it. Instead, Rhys sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Isn’t it worth it, though?” He saw her blanch and rolled on. “Like, let’s be serious here. The mining thing isn’t going to change the world, but it’s good information. It’ll save lives. And I can get more. Isn’t that…” His face pinched, eyebrows knitting together. “Isn’t that why I’m _here_?”

Fiona shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I know. I just…” She tucked a hand up into her hair, fingers tense. “We’ve lost a lot to Handsome Jack. _All_ of us, everyone on this godforsaken planet. The mining towns, the settlements that just go silent overnight, the damn moonshotting, the slag run-off… We’ve lost _so much_ , and maybe it’s selfish but I don’t want you to join that list.”

“I won’t,” Rhys said, trying to smile for her. “Fiona, I’ll be okay.”

She smiled back at him, and it didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “I know,” she lied.

Rhys didn’t call her on it. It was professional courtesy, after all. And he was lying too.

 

* * *

 

For a few hours, Rhys thought Jack’d forgotten about the dataport chip. It was a dull morning for Rhys, though not for the team coordinators that showed up to give Jack their reports. Rhys was happy to sit under the desk on one of the pillows, safely out of sight, and listen in.

Jack said nothing for the entire meeting, and the effect on the people giving their reports was clear. Their voices shook, their words came slower at first and then rushed faster, the atmosphere of the room heavy and uncomfortable.

After they all trailed off into silence, Jack just said, “Get out.”

Rhys peeked out from his hiding place to watch them run for the elevator. “They didn’t do anything wrong, did they?” he asked.

Standing, Jack stretched his arms over his head, grunting with exertion before his entire body went lax. “Nah. But they’re working on early stage projects anyway. You can’t get too pissed at stuff at that stage. It’s when things get to Alpha stage and into actual fabrication that I have to start getting violent.”

That was something, he supposed. When Jack didn’t sit back down, Rhys climbed out of the desk alcove and to his feet, taking the moment to walk around the office. He always needed to pace a bit after being under the desk for a while, and besides that he was waiting for Jack’s next command.

It didn’t take long. Jack whistled, making Rhys jump and turn around. “Let’s try this again,” he said, patting the top of his desk with one palm, the sound echoing in the office. “C’mere, buttercup, sit down.”

Between his fingers was the peripheral, the little gold circle glinting in the light. Rhys hesitated, staring at it, long enough that Jack rolled his eyes and slapped his hand against the desk again. “Rhysie,” he said in a warning tone.

He walked over and sat down, trying not to be nervous. Immediately, Jack moved to stand between his legs, having no qualms about pushing Rhys’ legs apart to make room from himself. Rhys leaned back on his hands, biting his lip and looking up at Jack.

Jack actually watched him for a moment. With his free hand, he took hold of Rhys’ chin and pressed his thumb against his mouth. “Relax. If I was going to hurt you, I’d tell you.”

He wanted to ask questions, but the finger against his lips kept him quiet. Instead, he took a deep breath through his nose and let his eyes slid shut, trying to keep calm.

“Good boy,” Jack murmured, his voice close. A fingertip traced a slow loop around his dataport, drawing a shiver out of him; the skin around his cybernetics was a little sensitive, always had been, at least since the initial soreness from the surgeries faded.

Jack pressed the peripheral in, capping it right onto his dataport. It clicked in, hooked, and Rhys could feel initial start-ups running. Without even thinking about it, he threw queries at the device before it even finished its initial setup. To his utter lack of surprise, everything bounced right off the device without answer. All he could see was the progress bar for the installation on his ECHO display.

When it finished… Rhys didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t happening. He could see there were new changes to his on-board software, but everything was running fine. He didn’t even need a reboot on any of his cybernetics to accommodate the updates.

He opened his eyes and frowned up at Jack, who was smiling. “See? Nice and easy.”

“Except for the processes that are…” Rhys poked at them some more, even logging into his administrative account to work at the device. “Under some kind of remote permission lockout.” He threw some commands at it, his attempts to gain control over it giving way to testing the waters. The way Jack was waiting, he assumed he was allowed. “I, uh. I can’t even force disconnect. Hang on.” Rhys reached up, finding the smooth cool metal of the device where it was plugged into him. His nails caught the lip of it, sliding between it and his port. He pulled, and found the thing wouldn’t disengage. “Uh.”

Jack pulled his hand away. “Stop that, you’ll screw up the port before getting it off.” He tucked his hand under Rhys’ chin, lifting his face to look into his eyes. “Range is limited, but it should be up and ready for me play with.”

Rhys lifted his eyebrows. “Are you going to explain what it does?”

“It’s an ECHOnet virus distributor. I’m gonna flood your HUD with pop ups for every shitty porn uplink I can find,” Jack said dryly. He leaned over the grab his keyboard, pulling it closer and working at it with one hand. “Nah, rather than do that, I’ll just show you. Tell me how this feels.”

For a moment, Rhys had no idea what _this_ was.

Then, it started to hit him. It was slow to start, just something like the temperature was ticking up. He felt warmth suffusing through him, starting across his chest and spreading up his neck and into his head. He flushed, following the path, red splashing high over his cheeks. Breath stuttering, he asked, “Wh-- what is that?”

Jack didn’t say anything, just held Rhys’ head up with a hand cupping the soft skin under his jaw, watching his face. It was a single point of contact, but started to feel like much more. Jack’s fingers dug just slightly into that vulnerable place and Rhys sighed out long and low, the sensation sinking into him like a heavy stone into a deep pool. His skin was humming, his hands on the desk going white-knuckled as he was drawn deeper into it.

He heard Jack tap a few more keys, and in seconds he felt the effect. A liquid heat started in his gut, spreading luxuriously through him, like something molten had been injected right into his veins and was working through the circuit of his body. He sucked in a gasp, harsh, as it started to get overwhelming. His hand lifted, patting at Jack’s stomach, fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt and clenching tight.

One hand settled on his neck, and it felt so good Rhys moaned, pressing into Jack’s touch in hopes he’d get more. There was more typing, but it felt very far away, and Rhys wasn’t paying much attention.

Whatever Jack did, it hit him hard. His eyes unfocused, almost crossing as everything twisted higher. Suddenly, Rhys couldn’t sit still. Everything was shivering electricity, all of his skin humming. In his head, it felt like a chemical fire, brilliant and hot and blinding.

He’d been rubbing one hand up and down his leg absently, wanting even more contact, but now Rhys pressed it firmly against his dick as he went painfully hard. The other was still tight in Jack’s shirt and he tried to get him closer, wanting-- Jack was warm, he had a firm touch, Rhys wanted to get against him, get his mouth on Jack, rub against him, it’d be _amazing_.

But Jack’s hold on Rhys’ neck held him off, his fingers tightening as he tried to move in. Rhys let out a whine, barely caring. He tried to follow the silent direction but, _god_ , he needed more. As he leaned in more, Jack relented enough to let Rhys press his face against Jack’s chest. His mouth was open as he panted, nuzzling against Jack. “Please,” he said, voice strained. It was hard to stop touching himself, but he managed, instead grabbing Jack with both hands and trying to drag him closer. “Please, Jack, need it.”

Jack chuckled, his hand slipping up to card through Rhys’ hair. Even just that felt so good, Rhys groaned, wanting more. “Well, this is interesting. You okay, kitten?”

Rhys said nothing coherent, just mouthed at Jack’s chest, hands scrambling to pull his shirt up to get at skin, warm skin would be _amazing_ , he needed it so bad--

Typing, and then Rhys went stiff all over, his entire body tensing. It felt like the stopper in a sink being yanked out, and everything drained out of him. It _hurt_ , not physical pain but something like whiplash as all the heat and floating sensation and humming over his skin just left him, even faster than they’d come on. His hands on Jack tightened and he pressed his face hard into Jack as he started to shake. It felt like something had been yanked out of his grip and it was as awful as the good thing had been lovely.

Shaking, Rhys leaned back, dazed as he met Jack’s eyes. Jack cupped his chin again. “Hey there, sweetheart, hey. Earth to Rhys, are you back, baby?”

Rhys shut his eyes and groaned, this time unhappily. “What the hell was _that_?”

“Endorphin controllers. Not what DAHL intended with those implants, but the same mechanism that gives you feedback from your cybernetics can have… more interesting uses.” Jack dragged his blunt nails over Rhys’ scalp. In the wake of having everything taken away from him, just that small gesture felt so nice. “How was it?”

“It was… god, amazing for a while…” He swallowed hard. “But when it went away, that was…” He shook his head, blinking hard.

“Too much? Huh, okay. I can add in some biological inertia controllers, make the comedown less severe.”

Rhys wondered if Jack was going to program that himself or if it’d be cannibalized from some other Hyperion project. Did Hyperion deal with… this kind of thing a lot? What department was that? Rhys sighed. “Well, I guess I’m glad you figured out how to make me horny with the push of a button. That’s great.”

Jack’s grin then was electric. “Oh, I can do more than that.”

Watching Jack’s hand back on the keyboard should have been more unnerving after what had happened, the way his body was just hijacked by the device plugged into his head. The anticipation was hard to ignore, though, and Rhys watched avidly as Jack punched a few keys and tapped Enter before leaning away. He put a small distance between them, just observing as Rhys sat there, unsure what would happen.

This time, it was… subtle. If he hadn’t know it was coming, he might not have even noticed. Like something coming loose, Rhys felt the tension in him slide away. Before, it had felt like something had been given to him, pressed into his body. Now, a weight lifted, and Rhys’ mouth opened soundlessly with a quiet exhale and nothing more.

It felt good, but in a completely different way. Rhys’ mind was a blank, all the worry sweetly stolen from him. He sat still, not wanting to move, not wanting to jostle anything and lose that sense of calm that was drenching him to the bones.

There was something else to it, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was and he didn’t care enough to figure it out. It finally came to him when Jack traced Rhys’ face with just his thumb.

With such a light touch, Rhys’ eyes fluttered shut, head tipping so slightly to follow along. Jack thumbed Rhys’ lower lip, pressing firmly to the curve of it before sliding in to press down on his tongue. It brought with it the lingering taste of leather from Jack’s gloves. Lips closing, Rhys curled his tongue around him with an absent hum.

Jack chuckled and pet Rhys’ hair with his other hand. “That’s it, just like that. Feel good, babe?” Rhys tried to nod, but it turned into a slow bobbing motion. He wanted… if he could get his mouth on Jack, god…

Slipping his thumb out Jack dragged it over the curve of Rhys’ mouth, wetting his lips and pulling away every time Rhys tried to catch it again. “Easy, easy,” he soothed, his other hand undoing his belt. “Want to hop down? Come on, kitten, on your knees, you can have it. I’ll let you have it.”

Easily coaxed, Rhys went down, kneeling right onto the pillow Jack nudged in front of him. He watched avidly as Jack undid his belt and pants, pushing everything down. He cock bobbed up, already hard. Any other time, Rhys would have felt good about that, how he’d already gotten Jack wound up, but it didn’t matter. All he wanted was to get his mouth on it.

A hand cupping the back of his head, Rhys leaned in and let Jack’s cock press his lips apart, opening his mouth and sliding in. Jack groaned, his fingers in Rhys’ hair. Everything was forgotten next to the weight of his cock on Rhys’ tongue, heavy and so good. It soaked into the dreamy pleased feeling that already filled his head. Everything that had been lifted from him seemed to just make room for more of this, and Rhys felt full in his own body again as he rubbed his tongue against Jack, like there was too much of sensation to even fit inside him anymore.

Sucking Jack’s cock was something he was doing, but it felt like something being done to him at the same time, spurring him on. His hold on Jack’s hips was a little desperate, worried Jack might tease him or pull away, something. He needed him to stay, to let Rhys bob his head steadily, the slick glide of Jack’s cock adding to everything else in his head, a dense fuzzy feeling, soft but thick and all-encompassing.

Jack’s voice was tight as he said, “Fuck, you’re so good, kitten.” His grip on Rhys’ head tightened and he rocked his hips against Rhys’ mouth. “And I’m a… goddamn genius,” he groaned, pushing in hard and coming down Rhys’ throat suddenly.

Rhys coughed, swallowing hard until Jack slipped out. Sitting back on his heels, he shut his eyes, breathing deeply. He felt so good. Jack had barely touched him and he felt _so good_ , quiet and warm and still and filled up.

He listened with dread as Jack hit a few keys at his computer. Rhys would have been happy to wallow in that feeling for the rest of the day and wasn’t ready to let it go, might never have been ready. At least this time, the process was more gradual; it took longer for Rhys to come back to himself. He blinked up at Jack with a frown.

Jack was grinning. “Nicely done, Rhysie.”

“What...” Rhys coughed again and accepted the bottle of water Jack handed him, opening it to take a big swig.

“Putting you in that gooey happy headspace with just a few commands. Pretty good, huh?”

 _Yeah_ , Rhys thought. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was _really_ wanting another go already, wondered how long Jack’s new toy could keep him in that state of mind, if he could spend a day like that.

He wondered if it could be addictive.

Face hot, he looked down, getting himself together. “I didn’t hate it,” he said mildly, listening to Jack laugh.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Ruffling Rhys’ hair, Jack threw himself into his chair. “Good test run. We’re going to have some _fun_ with this, you and me.”

“Inertia things,” Rhys reminded him. He again reached up to pull at the device, trying to take it out of his port. “Why won’t this--”

“ _Stop_ , stop,” Jack smacked his hand away. “You’re going to break your port, why don’t you _listen_ to me? I have to disengage it here first.” His typing returned, brisk and fast as gunfire. Rhys felt the device power down, its hooks coming undone. Jack plucked it out of his dataport without resistance. “You know those messages you get about when it’s okay to safely remove hardware from your computer? Well, this one you actually have to listen to.”

“Ah.” Rhys dragged his hands over his face. “So are you going to--”

“Not right now. I’ll add in the controllers later, I have to crack open the code again to do it.” The implication he’d done it all himself, built something that turned Rhys into a _mess,_ and had done it in less than a day, was… it was something. Rhys tried not to be impressed as Jack went on, “But now, playtime’s over and I’ve got to look over some things. Hey.” Rhys looked up at Jack and got another hair pet for his obedience. “Take off. Going to be a long day for me and I’ve got people to whip into shape.”

“Literally, or?” Rhys asked, getting a cuff upside the head.

“Your fixation on the whip thing has been noted. Get dressed, get out, I’ll see you tomorrow. And stop pouting.”

Rhys was quick to scramble to his feet, almost overbalancing. Jack snorted, amused, and steadied him before giving him a hard slap on the ass. It sent him away, hurrying across the cool floors as his mind whirled chaotically.

He hadn’t realized he’d been pouting. He bit his lip to stop. It was… a little disappointing. He sort of wanted to stay, which was fine, it was _fine_ , but.

He wanted to stay in case Jack needed a break, in case he had a little more time for Rhys. His attention had always been so good that Rhys felt a little guilty for enjoying it, but now it was something that hung over Rhys, a distraction that wouldn’t shake loose. He wanted to do another test run, to see what Jack could do to him if he really put his mind to it.

He wanted to stay for more. And, of course, to get another opening with Jack’s computer.

Obviously.

That was probably something worth worrying about, Rhys thought. But it was early in the day and he felt good all over, and he was leaving early. In fact, he realized he could catch lunch with Vaughn and Yvette if he hurried. It would be the first time he’d gotten the chance in over a month.

Everything else could wait. He’d figure it out later. Instead of worrying about-- instead of worrying, he got dressed and hurried out of Jack’s office, eager to see his friends again.


	10. Chapter 10

Ventura Depths survived. Sort of.

The settlement was taken by Hyperion but the _people_ survived, and when they left, they took disabled loader bots and four moonshot supply crates with them, dragged into the desert and lost to the wastes. Fiona didn’t know specifics beyond that or even who the lucky winner of a windfall of Hyperion gear was.

“Hopefully we didn’t just give a leg up to _another_ power-hungry prick,” Sasha had said.

“Anyone’s better than Handsome Jack.” Rhys hadn’t missed the way Fiona’s eyes had flicked to him when she said it.

He’d looked away.

That was weeks ago now, and barring a few small corporate insights that Vaughn and Fiona were able to turn into cash, he’d not gotten much more out of Jack.

Well. As far as information went, anyway.

Rhys was sitting in Jack’s chair behind the desk, his legs bent and tucked up with him. The chair itself was surprising; he’d expected the shiny surface to be a pain, sticking to his skin and giving him that annoying chafing feeling. Sitting there in just his boxers and a faded yellow shirt, it was nice, textured subtly to not cling to the skin.

He drew up one of his knees and rested his chin on top, tracking Jack’s movement as the man stalked around the office. He’d been pacing for almost an hour now, switching between calls and yelling and threatening so many people in such a short span that Rhys had stopped trying to follow along a half hour ago.

Eridium mines, that’s all Rhys knew. Something happened at one of the eridium mines and Jack was _furious_ and trying to find someone to blame, on Helios or on Pandora.

Rhys was fairly certain someone was going to be thrown off the space station today. It was all a matter of who Jack settled on.

It probably should have bothered him more but… he’d lived on Helios long enough and spent enough time with Jack to be inured to the judicious use of airlocks.

After Jack’s possibly hundredth circuit around the office, he stopped, hands on his hips and head tilted up to the ceiling, eyes closed. He sighed, for once still. He looked tired, face drawn, something narrow and sharp about him.

His head turned, settled on Rhys immediately. Some of the anger seeped away as he approached, his fingers uncurling from their fists. “Should’ve sent you home. Poor kitten, sitting all alone,” he said, false and sweet.

Rhys shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t mind. I can wait.”

Jack smiled, just one corner of his mouth lifting up. “If only my other employees were as good at their jobs as you.” His hand lifted and ran through Rhys’ hair. Rhys leaned up into the touch wordlessly. “I can count the actual competent people on this space station on one hand.”

“How many of them are you?” Rhys asked.

“Most.” He brushed the back of his fingers over Rhys’ jaw. “You’re not too bad either, babe.” The praise made Rhys smile and turn his head into Jack’s hand. “Uh huh, cute. Get out of my chair.”

Unfolding, Rhys clambered up, sidestepping and holding the chair back as Jack threw himself into it, keeping it from floating away. Once Jack settled in it, he grumbled darkly, shifting around. His shoulders pressed back to the chair and he arched his back, a grunt loosening like a rusty bolt from his chest. “God _damn_ it.”

Rhys watched, chewing his lower lip. “Do you…” Jack’s eyes lifted, narrowed on his face. “I could give you a massage, maybe?”

The stormy expression cleared from Jack’s face. “Now _that_ is the sort of idea I like to hear, pumpkin.”

Rhys couldn’t hold back his smile at that, the weird almost cheerful approval. It was a rare thing from Jack and he remembered every time it happened. It was-- he was good at his job. It was nice to heard that acknowledged. That was all.

The back of Jack’s chair was collapsible with a button laid into the side of the arm rest. Rhys pressed it, holding it down until the cushiony back folded down and slipped itself away under the body of the seat. “You’ll want to strip,” Rhys said. “It’s better without clothes in the way.”

“Wait, you’re making me do _more_ work for this?” Jack complained sarcastically even as he started to undress, peeling off layers upon layers of clothes. “This had better be a world-class back rub.”

Rhys collected Jack’s clothes from him as he took each piece off, his jacket, the vest, the dress shirt that Rhys had never _once_ seen properly buttoned up, and the soft, over-worn yellow sweater. The last piece was so old, Rhys was worried it would come apart in his hands, the fleece worn almost entirely away. Even the Hyperion brand across the chest was a design Rhys had never seen before. He set all the clothes aside carefully, but took extra precaution with the sweater, not even folding it, just laying it across the rest of Jack’s clothes.

Jack lifted his eyebrows at Rhys, expectant. Right. Backrub. Rhys helped himself to the drawer where Jack kept all sorts of… supplies for them to use. There was oil in there, something that reminded Rhys of the smell of old wood after a long rain, earthy and almost sweet. It went onto his hands thick, a wet sheen. “Lean forward? On your elbows?”

It was a testament to how much Jack wanted the backrub that he listened without any complaints or snide comments. His back curved in a smooth arch as he folded his arms on his desk, the line of his spine obvious.

Rhys realized with a pang that he’d never seen Jack shirtless before now. He couldn’t avoid just taking a long look at him, trying to commit the shape of his body to memory. What was strange, what he hadn’t expected, was how much of Jack’s bulk came from the layers of clothing he wore. Divested of all of them, he was muscled, but lean in a way Rhys hadn’t expected.

Jack lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at Rhys, catching him in the midst of his ogling. “I’m going to charge you by the minute, cupcake.”

“Right, sorry,” Rhys said, shaking himself hard. He stepped in behind Jack and rested his hands wide over Jack’s back, his thumbs framing Jack’s spine, fingers splayed wide.

Jack tensed at the touch. “Mind that metal hand, will ya? Unless it comes with massage options.”

“I think you’ve asked me about that before,” Rhys murmured, moving his hands over Jack’s skin, barely any pressure, just spreading the oil over his skin. “Should I get an upgrade?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jack said, chuckling. “You should let me buy you a new kit, sweetheart. Your Atlas arm’s sturdy, but that DAHL crap is obsolete. Get you fitted out for something from our line.”

Rhys felt his lips curve up. He pressed his palms into Jack’s back, starting low and dragging up to his shoulders. His touch was still light, just warming up Jack’s muscles, testing the supple feeling of his skin. “I don’t know if I can pull off yellow.”

Jack lifted his head up. “Are you going to put your back into it or not?”

Resting his fingers against the nape of Jack’s neck, he urged Jack to let his head hang down again. “Hey, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right. So, you know… hold your comments until the end.”

He didn’t need to see Jack’s face to tell he was rolling his eyes. “Fine. But pick up the pace, cupcake.” Then, sighing as Rhys pressed knuckles into his back, he added, “Yellow would work fine for you, trust me.”

Rhys made a noncommittal noise, not wanting to encourage him at all, focusing instead on his hands. He mapped Jack’s back, finding the knots of tension there. There was a particularly bad spot right under his ribs, and Rhys pulled at it carefully with just the pads of his fingers before working his thumbs against it, then the edge of his palm, and finally smoothing out the spot with the heel of his flesh hand. He ran both hands up and down Jack’s back after, looking for the next problem area.

Jack’s head sagged down onto his arms. “Huh. They teach you that on Eden-6?”

Rhys smiled to himself. “Something like that.”

Nudging down Jack’s pants to start near the base of his spine, Rhys kneaded his way slowly up Jack’s back, knuckles rolling to the heel of his hand and back again. As he did, Jack hissed softly, shoulders lifting until Rhys smoothed his palms back down, coaxing Jack to relax again before continuing his path up. He palmed the wings of Jack’s shoulders, petting them with a heavy touch.

The noise Jack made was subvocal; Rhys felt it under his hands more than he heard it, the hum and exhale, deep and satisfied. It made him smile, refresh the oil on his hands, and start again with his slow kneading pass over Jack’s back.

Under his attention, Jack’s body unlocked in stages, his weight shifting further onto his arms as he relaxed. It was a stark change from before, and Rhys hadn’t realized just how tense Jack was until he started stripping that out of him. It was night and day, and even after he worked all the knots out of Jack’s back, he wanted to keep touching. His hands were open wide as he pet up and down the man’s back, enjoying the supple heat on display.

Jack’s breath was even and steady, and when Rhys paused, stilling entirely for a moment, Jack said nothing.

Asleep. He’d somehow managed to lull Jack to sleep.

Resuming his long petting strokes, Rhys flicked his gaze to Jack’s computer. A prod and an idle query from his ECHOeye and it came on again, out of its sleep mode. It was still logged in.

Pressing his palms over Jack’s ribs, his lungs, feeling every deep breath he took, Rhys worked fast. He pulled up the most recent files Jack had been looking at, taking snapshots and flash copies, storing them away to be looked over later.

It only took a few moments. Jack was quiet through it all and as Rhys urged the computer back to sleep, waiting for the monitor to completely dim before taking his hands off of Jack.

Rhys wrapped his arms around himself and waited for the nervous shakes to leave him, eyes on the pliant curve of Jack’s body laid out before him, head pillowed in his arms, face lax from sleep.

 

* * *

 

By the time Rhys got back to the apartment, he was tired. He uploaded the information for Fiona and fired it off to Pandora in a burst transmission before hauling himself off to have a shower. His arm was sore from the day, both the massage and the bit of fun later in the afternoon when Jack pinned his hand up his back and bent him over the desk.

Washing away the tired feeling in his muscles took time, but Helios had amazing water pressure and heat, something Rhys was going to miss if he returned home eventually.

Dressed down with a towel slung around his neck, Rhys padded back into the living room. He had his arm in hand with a cleaning rag; the massage oil was working into the joints pretty thoroughly. It wouldn’t hurt the mechanisms, but he still felt the urge to tidy up.

Vaughn and Fiona were talking. Neither of them looked happy.

“We’ve looked into it,” Vaughn was saying. “Even if we could find something to cut through the collar, it’d try to repair itself. And probably set off an alarm besides.”

Fiona’s eyes were hard. “That thing never should have gone around his neck.”

“I know. But…” Vaughn shrugged. “Is it that bad?”

Rhys sat on the sofa next to Vaughn. “Is what so bad? What’s up?”

It was telling that both of them fell silent. Vaughn bit his lip, looking between Rhys and the communicator. “I, uh. I’ll let you two talk. Sorry I can’t do more.”

“Thanks, Vaughn,” Fiona said, voice solemn.

Rhys watched Vaughn stand up and leave the room without another word. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“No. Not… precisely.” In front of her, on the desk, where print outs. She rested her fingers on a few, sliding them from the stack and looking down at them. “All these came from Handsome Jack’s computer, right? Today?”

Rhys nodded. “What’s in them?”

“Assassination plans,” Fiona said, tapping her fingers against one page in particular. “For the resistance over in Three Horns that’s holed up in that old DAHL city.”

Rhys’ eyes popped wide, his breath stuttering in his chest. “Seriously?”

Her expression was dark and unhappy as she nodded. “Hyperion has a mole who will be making their move on the city soon. It’s one of those flying cities, so they’re supposed to sabotage the flight engine’s ignition primers, set off a massive explosion. Hyperion’s projections say that should demolish most of the city and destabilize it enough the rest will collapse into the mining caverns underneath.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Rhys sank back against the sofa, rubbing at his neck with his one hand. He didn’t know what to say, only that…

Fiona voiced his thoughts. “This is getting to be… too big. _This_ ,” she jabbed a finger against the papers, “is _not_ what we sent you to Helios for, Rhys.”

He covered his mouth, leaning his head into his hand, uncertain what to say. “Can we… How do we get the information to them? To, what’s his name, Roland?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you listening to me?”

“I am, but we still…” Rhys sighed. “We need to warn them. Do we know anyone in Frozen Wastes, anyone near them?”

She looked like she wanted to argue more, but the question stopped her. She leaned her head back, eyes closed, brow furrowed. “God, I don’t… I’m pretty sure I don’t have any contacts out there. Farthest I’ve ever gone has been the Highlands, never done any jobs to the southeast.”

“Are you in the middle of any jobs now? I mean, it’s a long trip but--”

“I have something going on, I can’t drop it now, but…” Fiona frowned more. “Sasha’s between marks. She could… drive out there. We might be able to talk Scooter into loaning her a car, I heard he might be part of the Resistance.”

Rhys couldn’t help his startled laugh. “The mechanic? That Catch-A-Riiiiide guy?” he asked, putting a little twist onto his words. “Well, uh, sure, okay.” He managed a weak smile. “Sasha getting to meet the Resistance, she’ll love that.”

Fiona’s gaze snapped back to him, hard and almost angry, something bright simmering just beyond her irises. “This is going too far, Rhys. You were supposed to get corporate secrets for us to make money. We are _not_ part of the Resistance. People who get wrapped up in the Crimson Raiders end up dead or worse.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We’re cons, not spies.”

“Fiona, without this… That whole city could go down if they aren’t warned. That doesn’t help anybody.”

“I’m not talking about--” She stopped hard and reined herself in. When she spoke again, it was quieter, though Rhys could hear the taut sound of it, stretched too thin, pulled too tight. “This is good. I’m-- I’m glad we can help. But this is getting too big, Rhys, this isn’t what we’re here for. This is the kind of thing that _will_ get you killed. We don’t have an exit for something like this. We--” she let out a hard, humorless laugh. “We’ve not had an out for you in months, not since you started working for Jack. I don’t…” She sighed and seemed unable to meet Rhys’ eyes suddenly, gaze downcast. “I don’t know how to get you home.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Rhys said. “But until then… if we can help, we should, right?”

“Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly. “I’ll get Sasha on the road to Sanctuary as soon as I can. But this-- we have to fix this, Rhys, and soon.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it’s my neck on the line here. I know.”

Fiona shut her eyes. “Please don’t remind me. God. Okay.” She nodded. “I’m going to go talk to Sasha. Please, for goodness sake, be careful.”

“Always, Fi.” He smiled, and waiting until she cut the call before letting the smile slip off his face.

She was right. This was so much larger than they’d expected, so much more than they were prepared for. He didn’t know when he’d lost control of the situation, when it had slipped out of his grasp without his knowing.

And he didn’t know how he was going to get back to Pandora.

 

* * *

 

That should have been enough stress for one evening. It was more than enough for Fiona and Rhys both to think about, enough to keep Rhys awake and staring at the ceiling.

But to Rhys’ surprise, he wasn’t kept awake with the worry of how he was meant to get home. When he laid down, he was out like a light. Perhaps all the worrying exhausted him. Regardless, he slept.

Until he woke up in the middle of the night, sitting upright with his heart pounding in his chest.

Eden-5. Jack had said Eden- _6_ but Rhys’ cover was that he’d come from Eden-5 and he’d not corrected Jack.

The sticky nauseating rush of adrenaline flooded him, a harsh whiplash from being asleep moments ago. He moaned, shutting his eyes and leaning forward, bending until his forehead rested on his knees, breathing hard through the uncomfortable rush.

Had Jack noticed the slip? Or, if he did, had he chalked it up to Rhys not wanting to bother pointing out the mistake?

Was Rhys even remembering it right? Had he misheard?

He sucked in lungfuls of air, waiting for the sick feeling in his gut to pass. It was fine. It was a small detail, it wasn’t important. If it came up again, well, then he’d say that he didn’t think Jack cared, didn’t think it was worth mentioning.

He’d been living this cover for so long, a small misstep was… it was fine.

He wasn’t going to get back to sleep that night, but it was going to be _fine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is shorter than usual and it took much longer. Sorry about that. [I published a novel since the last chapter](http://donotchoosesidesyet.tumblr.com/post/123392712940/this-city-of-flowers-a-novel). Been sort of busy.
> 
> Next chapter, tho? /grins and rubs hands together. _Lots_ of things gonna drop.


	11. Chapter 11

The day Jack’s sabotage of Sanctuary failed, Rhys thought that Jack was going to kill him.

It wasn’t that he’d caught Rhys’ slip with his cover, or that he’d someone pinned the failure of his saboteur on Rhys. No, Rhys just happened to _be there_ when the news got to him.

Jack was looking over schematics for new loader bot upgrades when a message overtook his screen. Whatever it said, it halted Jack mid-rant, cutting off his tirade about how disappointing every design from Robotics had been for the past _year_.

His eyes flicked quickly over the message. Gradually, a snarl unfurled over his face, lips peeling back over his teeth. He put a hand on the monitor, pulling it closer like he couldn’t believe what it was telling him, the stand scraping loudly against the table.

Rhys watched silently, holding a newly refilled cup of coffee, hesitant to step closer to Jack. It was like watching a transformation take hold, the corded tension in his arms, his fist pressing down against his desk, the wildfire in his eyes.

His fist lifted and slammed down on the desk with such force, Rhys would have thought it’d crack. “Are you-- _How did this happen_?”

 _Sasha_ , Rhys thought vividly. God, he hoped she was okay. Thinking of her made speaking up a little easier, like he could borrow her fathomless well of bravery. “What happened? Are you-- Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s goddamn _not_ ,” Jack snapped viciously, his gaze lifting to Rhys’.

For a moment, Rhys froze, chilled to his core, wondering if this was it, if Jack knew, if--

“Give me that damn coffee and shut up.” His voice was hard like pebbled glass, but his attention had already left Rhys, had snapped back to his screen.

Rhys put down the coffee cup and went to sit on the stairs, his back to Jack. His heart was hammering in his chest and his legs twitched. He wanted to give into his basic fight-or-flight response-- well, the flight part, mostly-- and run the hell away.

Not being able to look at Jack helped, oddly. He couldn’t watch Jack’s face, waiting with perfect dread for the moment Jack figured out it was _him_ and killed him for it.

Instead, Rhys shut his eyes and listened as Jack called his anti-resistance team and had them tell him _everything_ : how their saboteur had made it into the city, how their embedding in a small Pandoran resistance cell had worked, how they’d shaken hands with Roland, and how when they went to rig the city’s engine primers, they’d been caught and shot dead.

“Murdered by bandits,” Jack said hotly, biting off the words. “Months of work gone in an instance thanks to a filthy band of lowlife criminals. Let the Truth Broadcasting know, have them punch it up. Make the spy sound like the hero he was.” He paused, anger palpable. “And find me a _better way to take out the Raiders_! I’m tired of losing good assets to this shitheel Roland, _find me a way to kill him_.”

There was a tinny murmur of assent before the call cut, the sudden silence deafening in the office. Rhys could hear Jack breathing.

“Goddammit. _God_ dammit,” Jack muttered. “Rhysie. C’mere, now.”

Standing was hard. His knees were shaking as he got up and walked over to the desk. He wasn’t wearing much today, so much of his skin open to the air, and he felt achingly vulnerable. So many long planes of skin begging for a brual hand. Rhys wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hug some calm back into his body.

Jack was tipped back in his chair, almost at a recline, eyes pinched shut. Standing over him, Rhys didn’t know what to say, how to even gauge this and steer it back to safety.

He touched Jack’s knee carefully, saying nothing.

Jack sat up, eyes open and bright, and stood so suddenly that Rhys stumbled back, knocking into the desk. Reaching down to catch the back of one of Rhys’ knees, Jack lifted him up, urging him to sit. Pulling his legs apart, Jack stood close to Rhys, his body bending over him, shoulders hunched and spine a curve.

Rhys opened his mouth, and still didn’t know what to say, how he could possibly make it better.

Jack’s hands framed Rhys’ neck, his thumbs on either side of the column of his throat. They stroked against his vulnerable skin, dragging from the delicate junction of Rhys’ neck and the soft flesh under his jaw, down to his clavicle. His fingers swept over Rhys’ collar, barely jostling it, just enough to make its presence obvious.

Rhys shut his eyes and tipped his head back, exhaling slowly.

Jack’s breath was hot against Rhys’ neck, his face tucked close enough to bite. “I want to kill someone,” he muttered tersely as his thumbs continued to stroke Rhys’ neck. “Today was supposed to be a goddamn _victory_ and it’s been stolen from me.”

Rhys swallowed, lips parting as he breathed steadily.

“I can’t even throw out that team because they’re marginally harder to replace than the rest of the useless assholes here. But _god_ , I want to. I’m _itching_ to.”

“M’sorry, Jack,” Rhys whispered, bending his head, letting his nose nudge against Jack’s hairline, so close to him.

Jack lifted his head, finally looking Rhys in the eyes. “Rhysie.” He tucked a thumb under Rhys’ collar, applying just a little pressure, pulling it away from his neck and making him feel the band press in. “At least I have you, don’t I, sweetheart?”

Nodding, Rhys put his arms around Jack’s shoulders, tucking their faces close together, breathing the same air. “You have me,” he said firmly.

Jack’s arms went around Rhys, his weight pressing further onto him, and Rhys took him on without complaint. The pressure felt good, steadying, and his eyes slid closed again.

 

* * *

 

“Today’s Thursday,” Rhys reminded Jack a few hours later. He was back at his desk, working, doing that thing where he slammed the keyboard with his fingers, like he was punishing the computer for the bad news it’d given him.

“Are you a calendar now?” Jack muttered.

He’d been distant and surly for a while. Rhys knew not to take it personally after the day they’d had. He bit down a sigh. “I asked you about this last week.” When Jack him an annoyed but confused look, he went on: “I asked if I could leave early today.”

There was no recognition on Jack’s face, which wasn’t that surprising, really. “And I said yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” He grimaced, gaze flicking between his computer and Rhys for a moment. “All right, fine.” He tapped at his keys with a little less anger, and Rhys’ shoulders sagged as he felt the chip attached to his dataport disengage, releasing its hooks in him.

He pulled it out and walked to Jack’s desk, placing it in his open palm. Jack’s fingers closed quickly, catching Rhys’ and holding on. “Huh?” Rhys said.

Jack didn’t say anything, simply frowning more. His mood was plummeting, enough that Rhys thought about it, about cancelling his plans and staying to do what he could to help.

With an aborted sigh, Jack ran his thumb over Rhys’ knuckles once before letting go. “See you tomorrow, cupcake.”

Worried as he was, Rhys still left, careful not to look back at Jack as he dressed and got into the elevator. He didn’t want to linger on the feeling, leaving Jack to stew in his frustration and anger without an outlet. He had no problems being that outlet, knew that he could help, even.

It was his birthday and Rhys had promised to make it back early. And given how the Sanctuary sabotage had fallen through today, he couldn’t afford to be late. Fiona would… If he was late today of all days, Fiona would not take it well.

Slumping back against the wall of the elevator, Rhys wondered how he’d wound up with so many people concerned for him. It was sometimes exhausting. He was fine. Against all odds, actually, he was fine.

He rolled all of his weariness up into a ball and shoved it into the back of his mind before he let himself in to his and Vaughn’s apartment. He was on time, but even then he was the last to arrive. Yvette and Vaughn were on the sofa with drinks, and Rhys could see the ECHO communicator on.

Fiona was smiling. Just seeing the glint of of her grin eased something in his chest.

“There is no way Rhys could pull that off,” Vaughn was saying. “I can’t believe-- he’s not that smooth! Come on, I should be an expert here, I live with him!”

Fiona laughed. “Rhys is a completely different _person_ when he’s on than when he’s off, Vaughn. It was incredible, he just picked up the Zaford accent in _seconds_ and made up the next verse of the song while Sasha and I handled the safe.”

Rhys circled the sofa to lean over the back, his arms going around Yvette and Vaughn’s shoulders. “Spoofing a tavern song’s really easy when everyone in the tavern’s already pretty drunk.”

Yvette leaned back and kissed his cheek briskly. “Long time no see, Rhys. How’s working for the devil treating you?”

“Better than you’d think,” Rhys said jovially. Then, when Fiona’s expression darkened with all the suddenness of a curtain being dropped, he amended, “He’s the devil and it’s, you know, a day to day thing, but so far my luck’s holding out. Hey, where’s Sasha?”

Fiona sighed. “Still in Sanctuary. She _says_ she’ll be on her way home next week but…”

Rhys smirked, shrugging once. “She’ll be back. Eventually. Let her play with the Resistance for a while, she’s been desperate for something to do.”

“Still, I don’t like _both_ of you being away,” Fiona said, tucking her hands under her chin. “It’s just…”

Yvette tsked loudly. “Nuh uh, no. Not today, you too. It’s not happening.” She pushed herself off the sofa and went to the kitchen. “Rhys, sit down, I’m making you a drink.”

Something warm and comfortable settled on Rhys as he took Yvette’s seat, sinking down and letting himself sway into Vaughn’s side. He rested his head against his friend’s for a moment. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Vaughn said, mirroring his smile, maybe a little more wanly. “You’re in a good mood today considering…” He stopped and snorted. “Yvette’s right. For once we should talk about… other things. Like Rhys’ misspent Pandoran youth.”

Rhys laughed and put his arms across the back of the sofa. “Oh, I spent my youth _very well_ , thank you.”

Fiona arched her eyebrow. “Are you talking about before or after I saved you from being shivved in the spine in Hollow Point?”

No one paid much mind to the offended noises from Rhys’, but that was fine. Yvette settled in on the arm of the sofa, handing him a lurid magenta drink with a sugared orange peel. He grinned up at her, just happy to be sitting between his favorite people on Helios. It’d been far too long since he’d seen them both, had any time for them that wasn’t stolen away from his limited free time at the end of each weekday.

Vaughn was a solid, warm weight against his side, sliding into him as he dipped the sofa cushions, and Yvette braced herself with her arm around Rhys’ shoulders. It was a comfort, even as he watched the way Fiona’s smile changed; she was watching them, sitting alone hundreds of thousands of miles away.

Of all the days for Sasha to be away from home... It’d be fine, Fiona was the strongest of them all, but that didn’t mean Rhys liked it. Necessary evils were still evil.

After retelling (and arguing profusely over the details of) the story of Rhys’ first night in Hollow Point, Yvette clapped her hands and stood up. “Now, as much as I love to hear Rhys’ baby stories--”

“ _Baby_ ,” Rhys sputtered, outraged.

“I have to get going soon and you haven’t opened my gift yet.” She pulled a box from under the coffee table and dropped it into Rhys’ lap. “Happy birthday, Rhys.”

“You… gift?” Rhys stared in shock at the wrapped package on his lap. It even had a _bow_. It was in Hyperion colors, but Rhys would be shocked if it was possible to find a bow on Helios that _wasn’t_. At least the gold was nice. “You didn’t have to--”

Yvette flicked him in the temple. “But I did, so lets get to it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Rhys removed the bow with some care before ripping the colorful paper apart, getting to the box itself underneath. It was matte black and about the size of a hardcover book. The top slid off easily.

Inside was satin cushioning a… stick. Rhys picked the stick up carefully; it was metal with a black grip that contoured to fit his hand well, the silver and black designs drawing his eye to the red button that sat comfortably under his thumb.

Yvette stepped back, crossing her arms. “Go on.”

At the press of the button, the head of the stick extended outward two feet, a long, sturdy metal rod clicking into place under the spherical head.

“And again,” Yvette instructed.

Pressing the button again caused the rod to spark and light up with arcs of electricity, so sharp and strong the hair on Rhys’ arm stood up. “Oh my god,” Rhys murmured, waving it around carefully. “A stun baton?”

“I talked to Sasha. She mentioned how squeamish you are with guns and how many times going unarmed almost screwed up a job.” She smiled and gestured to the baton like a presenter showing off a gleaming new product. “I thought this would be a good compromise. You can keep yourself alive without killing anyone.”

“This… is _really neat_ ,” Rhys said, clicking the button once more. The power cut from the rod and it retracted back into the handle. “Yvette, thank you, seriously.”

There was a hint of relief in her smile, but her voice remained a little sardonic. “Well, after being stuck with you for months, I’ve got nothing but sympathy for Fiona and Sasha. Figured I’d do what I could.”

Fiona laughed. “So really it’s a gift to _us_. Thank you, Yvette. Welcome to Team Keep Rhys Alive. It’s a full time job and the pay is terrible.”

“You guys are hilarious. But thank you, really,” Rhys said.

“Wow,” Vaughn said. “Now mine is going to seem a little lackluster.”

“With all the work you put in for it?” Fiona said. “Vaughn, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Besides, I get more gifts?” Rhys put the baton back into its box and onto the table before giving Vaughn a hopeful look. “I love gifts, come on, don’t leave me hanging, man.”

Vaughn sighed but grinned. “All right, I’ve got it, hang on.” He stood. “Fiona, explain!”

“Sure. Vaughn’s gift is really from Sash and me. Vaughn was the one who made it happen, though. Smuggling contraband from Pandora to Helios is no easy task, but he put in the legwork for us.”

Rhys’ eyes widened. “ _Contraband_? I’m definitely interested now.”

The other gift wasn’t as elaborately wrapped as Yvette’s had been. It was a large mason jar, the sort that required two hands or a very sure grip to carry. It had a perfunctory bow attached to the lid but otherwise was completely standard.

But, Rhys knew, it wasn’t the jar that mattered. It was what was inside it.

“You’re _kidding_ me,” Rhys breathed, accepting the jar from Vaughn and tilting it to see in the light. “You _didn’t_.”

Fiona laughed. “Of course we did. How long has it been?”

Looking at the jar, the untrained eye would assume it was filled with something thick and opaque, rich blood red and impenetrable. Shaking it, though, a few darker bits swirled inside, rising to the surface to press against the glass. Cherries. Big ones, too, and packed solidly, all bouncing off each other and floating in the dark liquor.

Drunken cherries. Rhys beamed. “Too long. Oh man, it’s been _way_ too long. What’re they in?”

“Bourbon. There’s about… two hundred of the things in there? Something like that.”

“I want one,” Yvette proclaimed, reaching out to press her fingers to the glass, a dreamy look on her face. “Maybe two. Or ten.”

Setting the jar between his knees, Rhys waved her off. “Okay, okay, hang on.” He grasped the lid firmly and fought to turn it. “Come on…” The lid popped loudly, coming loose as the seal broke. “Oh man, that’s a great sound.”

Fiona leaned her elbows on the desk, grinning as she moved closer to the communicator. “I heard that all the way here. I regret not stealing a few before sending it off. That thing started its trek to Helios… a month ago, I think?”

“Twenty-six days ago,” Vaughn said, sounding pained. “Twenty-six days and probably three potential counts of smuggling ago. Happy birthday, Rhys.”

Birthday tasted like cherry and syrup, heady and so sweet he sucked at his teeth from the flavor. It tasted like hot Pandoran nights sitting outside the Purple Skag, sharing cherries with Fiona and Sasha from a chipped glass bowl, Fiona fanning her face with her hat as Sasha complained about how ridiculous it was for the place to be so hot after sundown and Rhys asking how she would even _know_ , after so long underground.

“You always know,” Sasha had said, with all the certainty of gravity and gunpowder. “The days on this planet are way too damn long, but… you always know when they’re over. Can feel it, I think.”

Fiona had nodded along. “Yeah. It’s probably, like…. tidal… things.” She’d tipped her head back and rested her hat over her eyes. “It’s a Pandoran thing. Pretty sure offworlders don’t understand.”

Rhys let Yvette and Vaughn help themselves to the jar, meeting Fiona’s eyes over the communicator and smiling, wondering what she thought of at the taste and if it was the same.

 

* * *

 

After Yvette went home and Vaughn settled down with a holotape for the night, Rhys let himself out of the apartment, carrying his mason jar under his arm. It looked as full as when it had first been handed to him, even though he’d watched his friends pop a dozen cherries into their mouths. Even that didn’t dent the jar’s contents.

It was a good gift. So much of Rhys’ time had been spent worrying lately, watching his words and trying to keep all the balls in the air, having a gift of something so familiar helped. It was a good reminder.

This wasn’t home, couldn’t be. And he needed to figure out his way back.

But it was still his birthday, and Rhys took his jar of delicious contraband out to the Hall of Heroism. It’d been weeks since he’d gotten to spend a little alone time there, just him, his usual seat, and the view of Pandora shining through the far-off glass.

He stretched out lazily, his knees apart, toes pointed out, sprawled over the bench. He was sagging low enough to rest his head back against the seat, the perfect angle to stargaze. Planetgaze. Look at Pandora with big doe eyes and sigh around another cherry, that.

It was a good birthday. Small, but good.

He didn’t expect anyone to join him, least of all Jack.

Rhys didn’t bother sitting up as someone walked in front of him, passing in and out of his vision before sitting on the bench next to him with a grunt. He let his head loll to the side, just enough to ensure he hadn’t imagined it, that it really was Jack next to him.

Maybe he was supposed to say something. Probably was; it wasn’t like he ran into Jack a lot in his ‘off hours’, but…

Rhys laid his head back again, breathing out slowly, and kept enjoying the silence for as long as Jack let him.

Jack crossed his arms, sitting back, mimicking Rhys a little, his eyes on the planet through the far window. “From up here, you’d think it was just another planet,” he said, quiet and conversational.

Rhys smirked. “No. Not really.” He turned his head to look at Jack. “How’d you find me?”

“Collar. Obviously.” His arms unfolded, and Jack cupped Rhys’ neck in his hand, dragging his thumb against the collar. “It’s a romantic view and all… What do I gotta do to get you to blow me here?”

Rhys barked out a laugh, startled and surprised. “Uh, I, um.” He snickered to himself, shaking his head. “Sorry, Jack, I’m not that kind of boy. But,” he picked up his jar and unscrewed the lid, holding it out. “I’ll give you a drunken cherry? Gift from a friend.”

Jack leaned over to peer into the jar, appraising with a hard line to his brows. “Hm. All right.” He didn’t move to take one, though, just met Rhys’ eyes, something heavy there, coiled and poised.

Rhys swallowed, taking care to scoop out one cherry from the liquor, shaking the excess drops from his fingers before putting the lid back on one-handed, setting it aside. Jack’s lips parted and Rhys nudged the blood-dark cherry into his mouth.

He split between his teeth wetly before he swallowed it, nodding.

Then, he hooked two fingers in Rhys’ collar and _pulled_ , unrelenting pressure until Rhys shifted and slid close. His knee planted between Jack’s legs, hands steadying on Jack’s shoulders as he balanced over his lap. Nodding, Jack let go, petting Rhys’ neck with his fingertips. Rhys felt his eyes close for a moment, calm as Jack touched him.

“It’s not your day off,” Jack murmured. “I checked after you left.” A shiver of nervousness skittered through Rhys, and Jack squeezed once, just for a second, urging Rhys to settle. “What I _don’t_ get is why you wouldn’t say anything about your birthday. You realize you’re fucking the wealthiest man in the galaxies, right?”

Rhys let out the breath he’d been holding and let his lips curve up. “M’not big on birthdays. Not since my parents died.”

“Ah.” He didn’t try to say more and didn’t pry. His hand was warm against Rhys’ side, resting just under Rhys’ ribs. The other hooked into Rhys’ belt loop, like he might’ve wanted to pull Rhys even closer.

Rhys bit his lip, wondering. They were pressed close. It was comfortable, and Rhys couldn’t find an ounce of tension between them, Jack’s hands demanding closeness but nothing else, and nothing Rhys didn’t want to give.

He’d had plenty of cherries and one of Yvette’s cocktails. He could hold his liquor, but didn’t really _want_ to, wanted to let some of the headiness in, wanted the bad ideas, wanted to let his good sense just slip out of his lax grip.

If he kissed Jack, he’d taste like sticky fruit and bourbon-cherry syrup, sweet and a little fiery.

He licked his lips. “Want another one?” he offered in a whisper.

Jack smirked. “I can do you better, kitten. Come on.”

 

* * *

 

The Penthouse on Helios had a lot of rumors surrounding it. Some said it wasn’t actually _on_ Helios, but was a floating substation hidden in the shadow of Helios. Some said it was an eden with full grown trees and carefully bred fauna roaming around. Some said every window was laid with crystal to cast glimmering light over the floors. And others said it didn’t exist, that Handsome Jack didn’t need sleep and just operated on a high octane mixture of black coffee, liquid eridium, and galactic class drugs.

Rhys had seen how Jack took his coffee, so.

The actual Penthouse was not the stuff dreams were made of, but it was the nicest place Rhys had ever been. The ceilings were tall, the glass outer walls overlooking Pandora and Elpis both at opposite sides. The floors were a marble so dark it looked like chipped obsidian, but covered mostly in plush carpets. The fixtures and railings were all shiny metal that hovered between silver and gold depending on how the light struck it. It reminded Rhys, more than anything, of the most high-end Hyperion weaponry, the custom work that cost more than a vacation home on Dionysus.

There didn’t seem to be any lamps in the Penthouse, but light came from _somewhere_. Trying to pinpoint the origin distracted Rhys for a few moments as Jack pulled glasses from the bar, setting them on the polished wood before a tall, amber glass bottle joined them.

“Lose something, pumpkin?” Jack asked, humor rich in his voice.

“Where is the light coming from? It’s weird.”

“Ambient sourcing, don’t worry about it. C’mere, birthday boy.” He poured two glasses and leaned back against the bar, picking up one and tapping it against his mouth.

Rhys took the other and sipped it. It was probably the smoothest thing he’d ever drank, the burn of alcohol held at bay by the smoky sweetness of the liquor. He let it sit on his tongue, humming at the taste for a long moment before swallowing. “Oh, _wow_.”

Jack smirked and cradled his glass between his fingers. “Better than the cherries?”

“Ha, _no_ ,” Rhys said, thick with giddy honesty. He could blame the drink for his loose tongue if he wanted the excuse. “But I appreciate the attempt.”

“Careful, Rhysie,” Jack chided. “I can get competitive.”

Oh, Rhys _liked_ that idea. He rocked his glass against his lip, trying to cover the way he was smiling because he couldn’t _stop_. It felt like waving bait in front of a predator’s face, but Rhys couldn’t squash the feeling.

It didn’t go unnoticed. Jack set his glass down with a dull _thunk_ , then took Rhys’, setting it aside as well. With his eyes trained on Rhys, he took the bottle, drank a mouthful, before pulling Rhys in.

Rhys didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t Jack’s hands taking firm hold of his face and holding him still so he could feed Rhys the whiskey from his mouth. It wasn’t the push of Jack’s tongue over the seal of his lips, opening them, and the smoky liquor on his palette. It tasted somehow better like that, with Jack’s mouth on his, their lips sliding together. Rhys swallowed, opening for more and for Jack’s tongue slipping in to follow. He felt his eyes slide shut before he realized what was happening, hand gripping Jack’s shirt and holding on as he pressed their tongues together, trying to drink more from him, body warm and sweet.

Jack’s hands bracketed him in, hips pushing Rhys until he bent against the bar. Rivulets of whiskey escaped the messy fit of their mouths, and Rhys felt liquor trail down his chin, then ticklish along his neck, making him moan softly.

It was when Jack fisted a hand in Rhys’ hair and tipped his mouth the other way, unrelenting and demanding, just from a new angle, that Rhys realized this was a kiss. It was soaked in honey liquor and rough but it was Jack’s mouth on his, and Rhys didn’t know why it’d taken so long because he and Jack were clearly _great_ at this. He bent back, urging Jack to press him harder to the bar, and they fit together so well, it made Rhys drunk, not from alcohol but from the heat and closeness and _Jack_ pouring into him.

He opened up to it, even cupping Jack’s face in his hand, his thumb tracing hard against the line where his skin became mask, fingers in Jack’s hair. His other hand he braced against the bar, because Jack was almost knocking him over, ardently trying to get them horizontal while still standing. It wasn’t successful, but Rhys was _fine_ with the attempt, lifted up onto his toes with Jack’s hips pressed hard and _harder_ against his.

Jack was kissing him and that was _significant_ , and Rhys needed to pay attention because this was new and important, but it was happening to him too. Whatever the seachange was, he was caught in the tide and dragged along for the ride, something rising up in him to meet Jack.

It felt like swimming and not knowing which way was up.

Jack’s hand gripped his ass hard, urging him to grind against his thigh, and Rhys tore his mouth away to _breathe_ , gasping and doing his best to follow the command of that bruising grip. Pressing his forehead to Jack’s, Rhys gasped as he rode his leg, the pressure almost too much for him, making him suck in pained little noises.

His eyes opened and Jack was so close. His lips were parted, watching Rhys move with a staggering intensity. Leaning up, Rhys kissed him again, mouth closed, just pressure and their mouths together.

Jack jerked away like he’d been burned, and Rhys froze, unsure what he’d done, _if_ he’d done--

The grip on his ass turned into a lift, Jack’s arm going around Rhys’ hips and holding him off the floor as he stepped back. There was a muscle twitching in his neck from the strain, and Rhys helped, putting his arms around Jack’s shoulders and holding on, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

Walking backwards, Jack grunted as he bumped into a doorframe. Rhys reached out, pushing against it, guiding Jack through it without a word, because he could see an actual bed and the idea of going to bed with Jack was (bad, bad, dangerous, _what are you doing_ ) rushing through him, want flooding his veins. As Jack carried him, he started to tug at his shirt, pulling it up from under Jack’s hold and peeled it off his head, throwing it onto the floor.

Jack dropped him onto the bed and helped, dragging Rhys pants off, lifting his hips bodily, stripping him and letting him fall back again. Before he even got his arms under him to sit up, Jack was following suit, clothes pulled off and discarded before he climbed up onto the bed.

Rhys grabbed both of Jack’s shoulders, using them to pull himself up and kiss him again. Jack growled, pushing him back down, holding him back for a moment. “Jack, what--”

The look in Jack’s eyes was _feral_ , something animal and distant as he looked Rhys over, his lips apart as he panted, almost winded. Rhys tried again, reaching out slower, and Jack caught his wrist. He was flipped over, onto his stomach, Jack laying across him heavily and making him gasp for air. “Like this,” Jack said, voice strained. “Like--”

Rhys nodded. “Yes, okay, just-- come _on_ , please,” he begged.

Jack leaned over him to get to the bedside drawer and in seconds big, blunt fingers were slipping into him, making Rhys _shake_ against the sheets, pressing his face down and shouting at the sudden pressure even as he pushed back for more. It was already too much, _everything_ was too much and out of his control, and he threw himself into the depths of it.

When he finally gave it to Rhys, Jack’s cock pressed him open wider. It was a slow, steady push of his hips as Rhys panted and whimpered. He was pinned, his shoulders held down against the bed with one broad palm gripping the back of his neck, Jack’s other hand on his hips. It was good, so good it shook loose harsh gasps and wordless cries from Rhys. He’d wanted it for so damn long and it was _good_ , the stretch and pressure and how Jack just made him _take_ it. Rhys could only spread his knees further apart and dig his fingers into the sheets as Jack fucked him into yearning compliance, incoherent with want and wrecked beneath him.

It was less like swimming and more like sinking, and Rhys didn’t _care_.

Rhys came with his teeth clenched down on a mouthful of the sheets, body tense and shivering like a struck chord as Jack’s hips rocked, his dick sliding in and out of him brutally. He fucked deep into Rhys every time, making him twitch and sob, pinned in place and helpless to do anything but take it.

It was a relief when Jack came, but even still Rhys sighed at the loss as he slipped out of him. Teetering between being too sensitive and still wanting more was sharp as a knife’s edge.

To his surprise, Jack pulled him close after, arm around him. Rhys felt starved for the contact and hooked his leg around Jack’s hip, pulling in closer and curling against his chest. It was a little too hot, but Jack’s hand stroked up and down Rhys’ back and he loved it, sank deeper into the feeling.

He needed to… There was _work_ to do here, for him to puzzle through. The mark was changing around him and he wasn’t watching. Being a con-artist was half just _watching_ and Rhys was rubbing his face against Jack’s shoulder and humming, eyes shut and definitely _not_ paying attention.

Jack’s hand slid up his back and squeezed the back of Rhys’ neck. “Hey. Want to talk about your hours,” Jack said, the first real words out of his mouth in what seemed like ages, rough-hewn and quiet.

Rhys nodded against his skin. “Mmhm. M’listening.”

Playing with the hair at the nape of Rhys’ neck, Jack said, “You usually get off on Fridays around 1600 hours.” His nail scraped along the hairline, and Rhys hummed along. “Well, I think you shouldn’t. Instead, you stay on the clock until… let’s say Monday evening.”

It took a long moment for the implications of that to find a connection in his head, bouncing around Rhys’ mind idling until they suddenly clicked and made sense.

His toes curled, the idea of being at Jack’s disposal for the weekend cloying and hot in his belly. Rhys pressed his face against Jack and said, “Okay.”

Why should he start making good decisions now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like shotgunning, guys.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: altered states

Soon after Jack changed his work schedule to include weekends, Rhys saw Handsome Jack without his mask.

The fact that Jack wore a mask was something most people Rhys knew were inured to. Sure, some folks back on Pandora _obsessed_ on it, coming up with theories and examining vids of Jack, still shots that highlighted the shape of it and how it moved, all some big conspiracy.

When Rhys was young, he lost his arm to a thresher attack as he traveled with his family through the Highlands. Before they’d been able to afford his cybernetics, Rhys had worn a false arm with fake skin that didn’t quite match his own flesh tone.

So people prying into the apparent mystery of Jack’s mask sort of rubbed him the wrong way.

That was then, though, when the entire idea had been a curiosity, something he would never have to actually deal with.

The first night into what Rhys was thinking of as his _overtime_ , he didn’t do much out of the ordinary. He was given a glimpse at what Jack did after his hours spent in the office, which turned out to be going back to the Penthouse and working some more. There was a smaller office there and Jack spent a few more hours behind _that_ desk. The only difference was that Jack kept one hand on the keyboard and the other around a whiskey neat. 

Rhys explored the Penthouse, keeping himself close by in case Jack needed him for something. The kitchen was well stocked, almost suspiciously neat in a way that made Rhys think some robot was in charge of Jack’s shopping. The dining room, too, felt unused in a way that set Rhys’ skin on edge, driving him to look at other rooms, almost searching for signs of life, that Jack _lived_ here.

There was a small armory, filled with so many guns it made Rhys nervous for the first time since he arrived in the Penthouse. Gleaming racks of firearms, from shotguns to what looked like concealable pistols, framed a digital shooting range. Rhys frowned at it all and ducked out of the room as quickly as he could.

There was a guest bedroom that looked as unused as the dining room. There was a wide, open room that seemed to exist just to overlook Pandora, a view so lovely, it rivaled Rhys’ quiet spot back in the Hall of Heroism.

Next to it was a server room. There was nothing else inside, just racks of servers sealed in thick glass. Rhys blinked his ECHOeye on and tried to scan one, mostly out of idle curiosity, wondering what they were hooked up to, but before he could even pull up any information, a wash of hot, prickly phantom sensation hit him, harsh enough he almost staggered, hand lifting to his head.

Down the hall, he heard Jack call from the office, “Don’t poke around there, sweetheart, it’s worth more than your goddamn life.”

Rhys sighed and retreated, walking back to Jack. His fingers traced the peripheral in his port, frowning. “Did you try to make me throw up? ‘Cause it felt like it.”

Jack didn’t even look up from his monitor, taking a sip of his whiskey before replying, “Just a little negative feedback, you’re fine. Leave the servers be.”

“Sure,” Rhys agreed evenly. He leaned on the doorframe, watching Jack work. The sound of his fingers on the keyboard was smooth, _tap tap tap_ , almost melodic. Rhys hid his yawn behind his hand.

It drew Jack’s attention. He did that reflexive move, reaching to find his pocketwatch to check the time and frowning perturbed when it wasn’t there. Instead, he adjusted, looking at the actual clock on the wall. “Go to bed, pumpkin, I’ll be done in an hour maybe.”

Rhys tipped his head against the door frame, considering. “You sure you don’t want me for anything?”

Jack shook his head, attention returning to his monitor. “I want you naked and in my bed when I get in there. Otherwise, no.”

“I can do that.” Rhys still lingered for a moment, in case Jack changed his mind, before pushing off the door and making his way to the bedroom.

When he wasn’t being fucked through the mattress, he had to admit it was a _nice_ bed. It was large enough that even he could starfish out, which was truly a feat given how long-limbed he was. There were too many pillows, which Rhys liked, resting against two of them and hugging a third just because it was soft and he could. His legs moved under the sheets, trying to warm up a spot to sleep and just enjoying the feeling besides. They were good sheets.

Living on Pandora made everyone a light sleeper, fitful and ready to be awoken at any point. Jack’s bed was so comfortable, Rhys was out in moments, before he even remembered to turn out the light.

Its soft click and the resulting darkness was what made Rhys stir again. He hummed softly, opening his eyes enough to track Jack on the other side of the bed as he climbed in.

He could have just shut his eyes and gone back to sleep, but it was his first night of overtime and he wasn’t sure what Jack would ask of him, if anything at all.

Jack rolled onto his side, facing Rhys, and his mask was off.

For a moment, Rhys stiffened all over, tensing in surprise without being sure why. All he knew was that something was different, even if it took time for his drowsy head to figure out _what_ was different.

When he did, his lips parted, exhaling hard as he traced Jack’s features with his eyes.

The scarring on Jack’s face was harsh, a deep furrow that looked carved into his skin. The skin parted around it, topographic mountains around an odd blue river of scar tissue that flowed up Jack’s face to his brow then cut sharply down the other side. The skin there was unnaturally smooth and looked so thin, Rhys held his breath, not wanting to _breathe_ on it.

His blue eye was steady on Rhys’ face, safe out of harm’s way. His other was right in the line of the scar and was white. Might’ve been false-- Rhys could have figured it out, just scanned and found out, but.

The mask had stopped seeming like a mask months ago, and the idea anything lay under it was-- even if it ever occurred to Rhys, it’d been none of his _business_.

He hadn’t prepared for this.

He lifted himself up onto his elbow, pulling in one of his pillows under his chest, propping himself up. It was hard, with his metal arm off for the night, but like this, he could see better, looking over Jack’s face, his scar, steadily. Jack barely moved, just shifted to follow Rhys’ eyes.

Rhys wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. So, like always, he followed his instincts, and reached out his hand, slowly, carefully.

He wasn’t shocked when Jack caught his wrist in a hard grip, though Rhys couldn’t help his gasp of pain. Jack’s hold was hard, almost bruising, and Rhys hissed at how it felt against his bones. He swallowed the hurt noise that wanted to claw out of his throat, and waited, keeping his fingers slack, just watching Jack and waiting. It wasn’t like he could move closer or further away with his arm held fast.

It took time, but Jack’s grip on Rhys’ wrist loosened, so slowly that when he finally let go, Rhys continued to hold still. He snapped out of it though. Moving almost timidly, he shifted closer to Jack, keeping his hand where Jack could see it.

He didn’t touch the scar first. Instead, he ran his fingers over Jack’s cheek, where the damage was minimal. Jack sighed, and shut his eyes. Or, eye. The scarred one didn’t seem to close all the way, unable to around all the rough tissue.

Rhys swallowed, taking some time to muster up any words to say. “Does… does it hurt? I don’t want to…”

The corner of Jack’s mouth curved up. “Nah. Don’t feel much at all.”

His hand slipped, releasing Rhys and instead curling loosely around Rhys’ neck, making no moves to stop Rhys. Jack’s preoccupation with his neck wasn’t anything new and the instinctive fear response had been eroded out of him; really, sometimes Rhys liked the gentle pressure on him, the way Jack demanded his vulnerability and rewarded it.

Rhys swallowed, felt Jack’s fingers against his adam’s apple as it moved, just enough of a grip to be conscious of it. Feeling bolder, Rhys brushed his fingers along the bottom corner of Jack’s scar. The skin there was rougher, uneven and hard under his touch, unyielding and frozen into painful-looking peaks. Between them was the eerily blue skin, and Rhys’ breath caught as he touched it. It felt like it might break if he wasn’t careful, skin oddly stretched.

Rhys licked his lips. “It looks like… How’d…”

“Long story,” Jack answered. “Don’t worry about it.”

There was something in how still Jack was. It felt like waiting. Rhys wasn’t sure what Jack was waiting _for_ or what he was supposed to do.

He licked his lips, nervous, tracing the nearly-broken skin before laying his hand flat against the side of Jack’s head, leaning in as carefully as he could with so little leverage. He could feel the scarring against his lips as he kissed Jack’s brow where it split around the blue line.

Jack inhaled hard, pushing Rhys onto his back and sliding over him in one motion, his hand urging Rhys’ head back against the pillow. Rhys shut his eyes, waiting for what was next, if he’d got it wrong. He hoped not.

“You’re a ballsy little thing, aren’t you?” Jack said, voice light, too light to not be faked.

Rhys was capable of being kind. He kept his eyes shut and smiled. “Maybe a bit,” he agreed easily. He opened his mouth to say more, but Jack’s thumb pressed down, just enough to stop him.

“Nuh uh, pumpkin. No more talking. I’ve got better uses for that mouth,” Jack growled, and caught Rhys’ lips with his own.

 

* * *

 

When Rhys finally got back to his apartment on Monday, Vaughn was waiting for him, his palms pressed together, expression pained and tight.

Rhys dropped his overnight bag on the floor, a stone of dread in his gut. “What happened?”

“Remember… remember when you said you didn’t want Fiona to know about the thing yet?” Vaughn muttered, his face turned away, like he couldn’t make himself meet Rhys’ eyes.

“Vaughn,” Rhys started warily, moving, bending at the hip until he could catch Vaughn’s gaze.

“What was I supposed to do!” Vaughn asked, incredulous. “All of a sudden you’re not here for the weekend, you’re _always_ home for the weekend, and she kept _asking_ and you know she just-- she’s like a friggin’ lie detector, I can’t get anything past her!”

Rhys covered his face with his hands. “What does she know?”

Vaughn hung his head, nudging his glasses up and down his face for a moment, looking as unhappy as Rhys felt. “She, uh. Knows that Handsome Jack expanded your hours on your birthday and that you’re spending your weekends at his penthouse and that you didn’t want me to tell her any of that.”

“Ohmigod, _Vaughn_ , is… is there anything she _doesn’t_ know?”

Vaughn, to be fair, had a miserable expression on his face. “On Sunday she had Yvette and I look into the model of collar you have on, to see if there’s any way to break it off. It’s, uh… got nothing but five star reviews for resilience.” He winced, his entire face pinching. “She’s not thrilled with any of us right now.”

“Shit,” Rhys said with feeling. He stepped around Vaughn to the living room, bending over the coffee table to wake up the ECHO communicator. “Goddammit, I need to--”

Hovering nearby, Vaughn looked even more upset. “Rhys, I don’t think that’s going to work?”

“Why, is there a communications satellite down or--”

“No, just.” He stopped, standing back as Rhys turned on the communicator and told it to connect to Fiona’s back on Pandora.

The screen was blank as it tried to establish a connection. It remained blank for a long time, until Rhys couldn’t lean over it anymore and sat down hard on the sofa, then even longer.

He ended the call and tried again, hoping it was a fluke, but again the communicator stubbornly refused to connect.

Vaughn looked entirely unsurprised, just resigned. As Rhys turned the communicator off again, he said, softly, “She said something along the lines of… something about how there wasn’t any point talking to you, that if you weren’t going to listen then--”

“I listen to her!” Rhys protested. “It’s just… things are complicated. This _job_ is complicated."

“No offense, Rhys,” Vaughn said, “but given all the stuff you’ve… not told her or held off on telling her, are you… _really_ that shocked, man?” When Rhys glared at him, he just shrugged. “Look, no one knows what goes on with you and Handsome Jack but you. Fiona, Yvette and I, Sasha, we’re all here to back you up but…” His lips twitched into a rueful smile. “It’s been a long time since you’ve wanted our help.”

Shutting his eyes tightly, Rhys leaned back on the sofa. “I know it’s… I just don’t know what you guys can do.”

“I know. I kind of get that. But Fiona? She--” He shook his head. “She’s pissed at you, and she should be, frankly. But mostly she’s just scared.” He rested his hand on Rhys’ arm, squeezing. “Give her time. Just-- call her every day. When she’s ready, she’ll pick up.”

Rhys sighed. “And then probably yell at me.”

“Which you deserve.”

“Maybe.” _Yeah_.

It was on him, and he knew it. Rhys _knew_ Fiona just wanted what was best for him. She wanted him to come back to Pandora. All she knew about Jack was what _all_ Pandorans knew, and none of it was good.

When Rhys shut his eyes, he could see the scar pressed into Jack’s face, the calm way he’d watched Rhys as he’d traced the harsh lines.

Fiona didn’t know that. Fiona would _never_ know that, as far as Rhys was concerned. No one would. It was for him and Jack alone.

Silently, and only in the privacy of his own head, he thought his friends couldn’t really help him anymore. Things had gotten too big. It was up to him to make this job work.

Fiona deserved better and Rhys damn well knew it.

 

* * *

 

“Pumpkin, why the long face?” 

Shit. Rhys startled, looking up from the coffee bar where he was meant to be making Jack another cup. He’d been there too long, and now Jack was watching him intently, his cheek propped up on his fist as he turned the chair to see Rhys. He’d been pretty engrossed in his work before, but now his eyes were trained on Rhys, steady like a sniper sighting down his scope.

Rhys turned his head back to the coffee, finishing it with heat across his face. He carried the mug back, set it down for Jack.

Jack, though, kept watching him, expression expectant.

Sighing, Rhys leaned back against the desk. His fingers worried at the hem of his shirt. “Just some… not work stuff. Home stuff. Sorry, I don’t mean to bring it here,” he explained, grimacing.

“Hm.” He reached out, caught Rhys’ shirt in one hand and pulled it away from Rhys’ anxious grip, then further until Rhys stepped closer. “C’mere, Rhysie, sit.”

“On…?” When Jack nodded, Rhys braced a hand on the arm of Jack’s chair and let himself be drawn down to sit across Jack’s lap. His feet dangled off the ground and his balance was wonky, his body long and a little awkward to maneuver. It helped when Jack wrapped a hand around his waist, tugging him flush to his side.

“Must be something, to knock you into a mope,” Jack murmured once he had Rhys settled in. “Usually, I say jump, you’re at the ready. Or running your goddamn mouth first.”

“You like my mouth,” Rhys reminded him with a small smile. Jack had threatened over and over to enact some vengeance on Rhys for his lip, but never followed through. It’d been an early guess on Rhys’ part, but proven true a hundred times over by now. Jack liked a little playful insubordination, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

“You think sayin’ it enough makes it true, huh?” Jack slapped his thigh briskly. “Want a pick-me-up, baby?”

Rhys had no idea what that meant, just lifted his eyebrows in question. Jack grinned and snapped the fingers of his free hand, pointing to his desk. “Keyboard,” he demanded. Rhys leaned and grabbed it, passing it over to him. It balanced on their combined lap as Jack worked at it one-handed.

He caught on soon when something in his spine began to _melt_ , like a pat of butter on a hot plate, shifting and spreading through Rhys’ body. His eyes crossed at the-- it wasn’t a physical feeling, but an induced sensation, like something with ones and zeros for bones was reaching into him and stirring him up.

Jack had used the peripheral before to wind Rhys up and wreck him, or to make him easy and compliant to whatever Jack wanted from him. This was a different kind of rush; he felt like the prickly upset in him was being smoothed over, coaxed to release him. In its place came a… sticky heady warmth that felt so tangible in his body, like he was a glass being filled up with a syrupy hot liquid. His head lolled forward, lips parted around his suddenly deep, steady breaths.

Sometimes, when Jack did this, he had Rhys clawing desperately at him, making Rhys feel like he was made of shivering arousal, so turned on it fucking _hurt_.

Now, Rhys leaned his head against Jack’s hair, mumbling something incoherent, so relaxed and calm that the effort to hold up his head seemed too strenuous.

With a low chuckle, Jack propped Rhys up. “There you go, honey. All better?” Rhys nodded mutely. “Here, sit up, let’s just take this off.”

Rhys barely followed it as Jack pulled the unlock tool for his arm out of the desk. In seconds, it was detached and Jack was setting it down on the floor next to the chair. With it out of the way, Rhys curled up further on Jack’s lap, tucking into the space under his shoulder. His head rested heavily on Jack’s collarbone and he sighed out the last dregs of tension from his body.

“Gonna purr for me, kitten?” Jack asked, blunt nails dragging through Rhys’ hair, against the grain before smoothing back it back down.

Rhys didn’t bother saying anything. He didn’t think Jack would mind if he just lay that, idly rubbing his feet together and dozing against Jack’s chest.

“Yeah, you are,” Jack said, hushed, a smile in his voice. “Got you trained up all nice, what a good kitten.”

Comfortable and tucked up like that, Rhys was so drunk on endorphins he couldn’t string a sentence together. Which was good, because he could feel his filter just _gone_. If he could, he’d probably babble about how much he adored Jack, about how he didn’t deserve such loveliness, and Fiona.

Fiona.

He whined softly, and Jack’s thumb dug in slow circles behind his ear until he settled, let the thought slip away. Here, like this, he didn’t have to do anything, barely had to pretend or lie and Jack was so nice to him.

Rhys watched through half-lidded eyes as Jack pulled up whatever he was working on, his attention back on the monitor. He probably should have been paying attention. He had a perfect vantage point to see whatever it was Jack was doing.

Instead, Rhys shut his eyes and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, i'm juggling a lot of stuff right now.
> 
> we are getting close to. things. yes. /rubs hands together. it's alllll coming together now.
> 
>  **ETA 06/27/2017:** [Here is the amnesty for this fic, the remaining outline. The story was set to go some incredible places. Sorry I never properly wrote it.](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JD4ZLhmeSIdGY9lTRw8vT0euP7pEerPd4zjvrcf4IN4/edit?usp=sharing)


End file.
